Where I'm Not Wanted
by narrazione
Summary: *DEADLIEST CATCH*  When a new cameraman boards the Time Bandit, everyone gets thrown for a loop.  As Chris struggles to find her place on the boat, she learns that it's not always those those that fight for us that we need the most.  My first ff!
1. Chapter 1

***Ah, thank you for even clicking on this. I've been creeping on Deadliest Catch fan fics for awhile now, and all these ideas have been brewing. I finally worked up the courage to post my own, and I hope you enjoy it half as much as I enjoy reading all of yours! Feedback is MUCH appreciated. And, of course, I don't own any of these people. Chris is my own creation, and I'm sure I took some liberties with the whole crabbing process as well as a few of these guys. But I'm not associated with Deadliest Catch in any way, so suing my ass won't get you anything. I don't have anything to sue, anyway. Read and enjoy!***

"So, where's my team?" Andy asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. The crew of the Time Bandit yelled some insults at each other as they hurried to get the boat ready for the season.

"That," Jeff Conroy mumbled, scanning the docks, "is an excellent question. Don said they'd be here by now."

"Well, if this new cameraman isn't here in 10 minutes, they'll miss our suit drills. And if they miss our suit drills, they don't sail with us. You know that," Andy shrugged. "If we don't leave soon, we'll get caught up in that storm."

"They'll be here," Jeff said to assure both of them. Maybe he'd made a mistake in promoting Don Bland to producer. Almost all of his greenhorn producers and cameramen had left after the red king season, so he'd had a lot of shuffling to do. Don had been one of the ones to benefit from that, and Chris was one of those iffy new people that would probably fit in and be wonderful if they played all their cards right and didn't die of seasickness. If Don didn't get the greenhorn there in time, though, Jeff had a bad feeling about Chris ever fitting in.

Of course, they were _somewhere_ in Dutch Harbor. The production crews had been there for nearly two weeks rigging the boats for filming. Jeff had personally briefed Chris over how hard this job was, and how particularly hard life would be for the greenhorn. So, where were they now?

As if to answer his question, he felt a glare hit the back of his head. Chris was there, _cheerful_ as ever. He told Andy as much, but Andy glanced around him and shook his head. "Don and his girlfriend are here. Ain't no cameraman."

"Andy," Jeff glanced heavenward for a little strength as Johnathan hopped off the boat onto the dock, "you're not getting a new cameraman."

"Great, 'cuz we're doing suit drills now, and I'm not waiting for latecomers!" John announced, shoving a suit at his brother. "Let's go." Andy shoved the suit back absently and narrowed his eyes at Jeff.

"What're you sayin?"

"Sorry that took so long. There was an issue recording who had what sat phone. It's all sorted," Don announced as the pair pulled up to Jeff and the Hillstrands.

"S'fine," Jeff shook his head, really not caring now that his team had actually made it in time. He probably should have planned how to break this news, but he'd secretly hoped the Hillstrands would find out another way. "You guys know Don. This," he pointed to the tall, fit brunette next to their boat producer, "is Christina Menden. She'll be your new cameraman this season. …Camerawoman."

The dock was, if possible, completely silent. The crew wasn't yelling, the brothers weren't sniping at each other, nothing. Christina looked between Jeff and the Hillstrands as the brothers processed the information in complete silence. Don shrugged at her helplessly, and she finally just rolled her eyes and stuck out her hand. "You can call me Chris."

That seemed to snap them back to reality. John reached out slowly to shake her hand, but Andy finally got the sense to glare and snap, "She will_ not_ be on our boat." John snickered as he shook her hand and introduced himself. "She won't. No women on board. Golden rule."

"Hell, I know that," John shrugged. "But I can still be civilized, can't I?"

"You're not coming on the boat. It's simple, really. A woman on board is bad luck, and we've had enough bad luck in our time," Andy continued.

Chris rolled her emerald eyes skyward and mumbled something under her breath. "Do you know _why_ it's bad luck to have a woman on board, Captain Andy? No? Johnathan? Not you, either? See, I was supposed to be a lifer in the Coast Guard, ended up serving for 11 years, so I know my fair share of fun nautical facts. Women are bad luck on a boat because they don't know all of the other superstitions and will probably do something else to bring bad luck to the crew. I've spent more than my fair share of time on the water," she cast a dirty look at Jeff, "so I can assure you that I know and respect all of that. I won't be bringing bad luck to your ship. Now, could I please whoop all your asses at survival suit drills, or do we need to argue about cooties some more?"

There was a pause in which Chris and Andy locked gazes like two dogs ready to fight over territory. It took a moment for anyone to muster the courage to move, but Jeff Conroy finally patted his greenhorn's back and headed back down the docks to check on the Northwestern. He didn't need to see Andy's reaction. She was in.


	2. Chapter 2

*****Thanks for reading! I'm really excited about getting my first story up. Reviews are so appreciated, so tell me what you think! I mostly rated this M for language; I think I might have overreacted to the rating system. I'm still getting used to this. And, disclaimer-wise, obviously I don't own a crab fisherman.*****

Despite their early departure, the Time Bandit still caught the tip of the storm, and the winds were fierce. Thankfully, there wasn't any rain to combat, but Chris had to stand in the most awkward-looking V on deck to keep from being knocked over by waves. The crew was having trouble, too, which was her only comfort. At least she wasn't the only one looking like a fool. Jeff had told her that starting on an opie season was going to be pretty tough weather-wise, but she hadn't expected it to be this bad this soon.

But the damn crew wasn't talking to her. She'd been asking questions ever since they left port, but no one had much to say. It was hard to tell if they were feeding off of the captains' negativity or if they, too, hated having a woman on board. Either way, the only reason they'd say more than a few words was if they had a complaint. Or, mostly in Andy's case, if they wanted to mock her.

He'd taken to calling her a variety of different nicknames, all of which were very feminine and very degrading. Anything from Princess to Tinkerbelle, she was expected to answer to. There was a bet going on how long it would take for her to throw up, in which the only people giving her any credit for being former Coast Guard were Scotty Hillstrand and Mike Fourtner. Scotty figured she'd last about 6 hours, and Mike figured she'd go a full day. Everyone else bet under 4 hours in the "How long until Sweet Cheeks barfs?" poll.

It was frustrating, not being able to do her job. She didn't particularly want to be there, but she didn't want to look incompetent either. She hated this gig, but she could do it, and these crabbers weren't going to make it look otherwise. Not if she had any say. Although, they were making it pretty clear that she _didn't _have a say. In anything.

If she had to be taken away from the Coast Guard after all this time, at least she was still on the Bering, though. At the thought of the Coast Guard, she heard herself sigh. For 11 years, she'd been an active member of the guard, spending her last 5 as a rescue swimmer. After the accident, they'd tried to keep her around as a "combat cameraman". And she was damn good at it, learning how to film quickly. She'd fit right in with the experienced camera crews, but she found that being in the helicopter on a rescue and not being able to do anything but stare at her screen was too much for her. With her new skills and sea life, Deadliest Productions had snatched her up. She'd expected, and secretly really wanted, a cushy desk job in Seattle editing film. Funny how that worked out.

Keeping her camera focused on the crew as they set pots, she looked out at the sea and blinked a few times. They would not add 'crybaby' to her list of nicknames, she decided. They wouldn't. She really didn't need that shit on top of everything else right now.

"You okay?" Chris jumped. Scotty Hillstrand was looking at her through the camera, as if the lens was her face. She smiled at his concern and made a mental note to stop feeling sorry for herself. Her life was far from pathetic.

"I'm fine, yeah," she assured him as a wave came over the side and made them both stumble a bit. They returned to their original positions with the ease of people used to being buffeted around by the ocean. "Thanks."

"You know, these waves aren't that bad," Scotty smiled as if they'd been talking about the weather for ages, throwing Chris off. What was he going on about? "The worst part is dropping pots in this wind. When we get them down off the stacks they're swinging around. If you're not looking…" he shook his head. "They'll only get you once."

Chris cocked her head. "Scotty Hillstrand, did you just give me an interview?"

"Mmmmaybe," he grinned. "Don't tell my dad. He's determined not to speak to you all season."

"If you start wearing your microphone, I won't say a word," she grinned, and Scotty laughed in a way that told her it would never happen. "Thank you."

"You're not that bad. It's not like you can help that you're a girl. Besides, you're good out here. I'm gonna lose that bet."

Mike Fourtner chose that moment to cut in. "Hate to interrupt, but those pots won't move themselves, Hydro Man"

"Gotta go," Scotty grinned, and Mike took his place at the camera.

"How's it goin, greenhorn?"

"I'm hanging in there. Anything you want to say about the upcoming season?" she asked, feeling more than a little lucky at the crewmen's friendliness. Mike glanced up at the wheelhouse like he expected Andy to leap out the window and tackle him for talking to her.

"Opie season's always got worse weather, you know? And it's longer. But it's worth it. There's nowhere I'd rather be than on this boat. We're a family, you know? One messed up, redneck family." He paused. "They'll let you in eventually. There'll be a moment, you'll do the right thing, and you'll never be able to leave no matter how hard you try."

Chris opened her mouth to say something, but Mike glanced over his shoulder and realized they needed him to help get the pot ready. And, like, that, the moment was passed. She cast a look over her shoulder to the wheelhouse, where Andy was writing something down and Don was giving her a thumbs-up. She didn't know what she did, but for whatever reason, they were opening up.


	3. Chapter 3

*****Thanks for all the great reviews! I really appreciate them. I'm a college student, so I'll do what I can to post on a good schedule, but I can't promise anything. I've already got a fair amount of this written, so as long as I have 5 minutes to log on and upload, I'm good. Once I run out of that stuff...we'll see how it goes. And, yeah, no, I don't own a captain if you were wondering.*****

"I didn't go to film school."

"Seriously? Did they just shove a camera in your hands and stick you on the boat?" Scotty laughed. Chris rolled her eyes as she chugged a mug of water.

"I was trained in-field by the Coast Guard. It's like going to school, but not really. In this country at least, military training is just as good as a college education, which is good for me because no way in hell was I cut out for college."

"I didn't know that happened," Mike said around a mouthful of sausage. The crew was waiting to get to the destination where they'd set their second string, and a quick meal was in order.

"Well, we're sure you're very good at your job, Sugar. If you're twice as good as a weatherman, you might be a halfway decent cameraman. Maybe."

Chris forced a smile and imagined herself shoving Andy overboard. That made her feel better. "On that note, I've got to go make our call. Thanks for the food, Mike." Mike nodded and stood up so she could slide out of her seat. The production crews were required to check in by sat phone every 24 hours, and Chris promised Don she'd make the call while she slept.

Of course, neither she nor Don could keep simple things organized to save their lives. $50,000 worth of camera equipment they could find at any time, but they were always losing the little satellite phone. Even though Chris was positive she'd seen Don with it in the wet room before they dropped the first string of pots, she couldn't find it now. Out of frustration, she ripped the ponytail out of her mocha hair and shook her head violently so her hair hung in loose curls all the way down to mid back. For whatever reason, the move helped calm her down. Where the hell was it? She dug through her camera bags, and, when that was a bust, turned to Don's stuff.

"Looking for this?" Chris snapped her head up and let out a huge sigh of relief at the sight of Mike leaning against the doorframe, waving the sat phone at her. "Don left in the wheelhouse. Andy remembered after you left."

"And couldn't be bothered to bring it himself. Lazy ass."

"I'm hurt that you didn't want to see my handsome face again, but I'll pretend you just wanted to insult Cap'n."

"Mike," she laughed, "that's not what I meant. Thank you. And…thanks for everything. The rest of the guys are being so much nicer now that you and Scotty started talking to me."

"They're good guys," he shrugged, handing her the phone. "Everyone can see that you're good on deck, and you haven't done anything stupid. Plus, being ex-Coast Guard is kinda hot, so that helps you."

"You calling me hot, Fourtner?" she grinned. Mike bit his lip and rolled his eyes.

"Don't let it get to your head, Chris. We'll be at the grounds in 10."

* * *

"How's it going on deck?" Don asked as Chris started fumbling into her suit. She nodded enthusiastically.

"The guys are coming around. I mean, it's not the Coasties, but whatever."

"You'll come around. Ask me at the end of the trip why this is better than filming Coast Guard. I've got a damn good answer." Chris doubted that, but she let him have his moment. "You're staying in on this one."

"Scuse me?" Chris frowned, stopping with one arm flung straight out as she put her rain jacket on. "I just said I'm doing well out there!"

"Chill, I'm not punishing you," he laughed. "Andy's driving me nuts making fun of you, so you two are using this string to hash out your differences."

"We are _not_," she insisted, wishing she was a bit taller than her 5'9" so she could intimidated him a bit. "I need to really get in with the crew." Don raised his eyebrows, and she knew she was beaten. There was no getting around the boss man, even if she could kick his ass five ways to Sunday.

Chris stopped to grab a Red Bull as a peace offering before going up to the wheelhouse. Immediately, Andy started talking to her, so she knew he had no idea who had actually walked into the wheelhouse. "-grab something to drink, cuz I'm already dying of thirst up here. And tell Twinkletoes to get her ass out on deck asap, Don. John," he turned to say something to his brother, who was grinning at the obvious confusion. "John," Andy started again, his eyes glued on Chris's smug smirk, "I hate you."

"Here," she offered the Red Bull, which he took numbly. "Don and I are switching because apparently you and I have issues. I don't have a problem with you, so unless you feel like talking about it, we're just going to film like I'm Donny, okay?"

Andy raised his eyebrows at her attitude and took the Red Bull. "Um…yeah. Sure. What do you need me to say, Angelcakes?" He gave her the typical details of setting a string and gave a few comments about John trying to tell him where to set gear. John insisted he was just giving advice, and the brotherly fight proved entertaining. They fell into an easy silence after about an hour, with Andy and John making the occasional comment about what was happening on deck. It was all very professional, but Chris could still feel that she wasn't wanted. As if to confirm that, her sneeze didn't get the typical response. John mumbled something that could have been "bless you" if it was English at all, but Andy responded with, "Too cold for ya', Sweet Thing?"

"I'm fine," she rolled her eyes. "I sneeze around too much dust."

"Well, I'm sure you can clean a bit for me, Sweets. You have the most free time of us all." He raised his eyebrows in what could have been a playful manner, but could also have been a dare. She wasn't sure. So, in a bit of boldness, she addressed the heart of the issue.

"Captain, do you want me to leave the boat?"

"What?" Andy frowned at her, then at his brother, who was so uncharacteristically silent that he might have been dead. Even asleep, John made more noise. This time, the elder Hillstrand looked just as confused. "No. Why?"

"John won't talk to me, and you won't take me seriously. My one rule in life is that you don't stay where you're not wanted, and you make it pretty clear that I'm not wanted here. The sooner you let me know that, the sooner I can tell Jeff. He could have a replacement on the docks first offload."

Andy watched as Neal and Eddie yelled at each other, but once he was sure the fight wasn't too serious, he turned to face Chris. "Do you want to leave?"

"I don't want to stay here if you don't want me," she repeated. He looked over her shoulder to lock eyes with John again, and she waited out their silent conversation.

"You're good on deck, hun" Andy said finally, turning back to assess the Neal/Eddie situation. "You've got the two-step down like you've done it your whole life. You haven't puked yet, which lost me money, but I'm okay with that." He stopped to crack open the Red Bull and take a swig. "And the guys like you. I'm not getting rid of someone that good and ending up with some piece of shit on my deck."

Chris couldn't help but feel a bit proud at that. So, in some way, she _had_ proven herself out there. Apparently, having sea legs and a strong stomach worked in her favor. Yet, all that Coast Guard training meant nothing. Interesting. "So, if I'm 'that good', why don't you like me, Captain?" she dared to ask. Andy cast her a sideways glance, then looked back out the window. He pulled down the intercom and warned Neal and Eddie to calm down out there.

"I don't need a fist fight the first week," he mumbled, shaking his head. "Sometimes, people just have issues, and they take it out on each other. It's nothing personal, you know?" he told the camera.

Chris wasn't sure what that comment was referring to, but that was probably what he was going for. Something about Andy really confused her. If he wanted her there, why did he keep pushing her away?

"You should never trust someone sight-unseen." Andy's voice broke her thoughts. He was still staring out the window, as was John, but he was obviously talking to her. "If you give someone the benefit of the doubt out here, it could get you killed. My number one job is to keep these guys alive."


	4. Chapter 4

*****Again, thanks for the reviews everyone! I still don't own anything to do with Deadliest Catch. I do, however, now own a pair of black thigh-high boots.*****

It was much calmer on the Bering when the Time Bandit boys were hauling their first string. Chris had reached treaties, however uneasy, with nearly everyone on the boat. John still barely spoke to her off-camera, but Don assured her that was normal. He hadn't had the chance to throw a firecracker at her yet, and until that or some deadly situation arose, John didn't think she was all that important. Word was that he treated all cameramen the same way, which was supposed to cheer her up. She didn't have the heart to tell Don she saw John's silence as a challenge. She'd crack that shell somehow.

Despite how uninterested she expected to feel, Chris actually found herself holding her breath with the crew as Mike threw the hook for the very first pot of the season. She cast Eddie a glance, and he nodded to confirm that she was standing in a safe spot to film the pot coming over the rail. She figured that, from her position, she could get the crew's reaction as they saw that pot full of crab.

Or, in this case, the pot mostly full of crab. Half full. Ish. It wasn't the best haul, and even her inexperienced eye could see that. Still, Andy gave a half-hearted cheer over the intercom, and the guys cracked a few jokes as they sorted. Chris let them work for a few pots, just observing. She watched how everyone stood, careful to avoid the ropes lying around on the deck. She took careful note of where everyone stayed put until the pot was secured with the dogs and then sprang into action. These were all the safety things that couldn't be taught; you just had to pick them up. A half dozen pots in, she finally felt comfortable enough to engage them. Her first step was to one of her safety nets: Mike. If she asked a stupid question or did something dangerous, he'd let her know. He'd make fun of her, but she wouldn't be part of a full-crew mocking like Don had been that morning for tripping down the stairs to the wheelhouse.

"How's it feel to see that first pot come over the rail?" she asked. Mike started as if he'd forgotten she was out there with him.

"You never know where they are 'til you find them," he grinned boyishly. He paused to throw the hook, and Chris smiled at the angle she had. She instinctively moved out of the way as the buoys came towards her, feeling like they might hit her in the face if she stayed put, but Mike kept talking.

"You're pretty quiet out here. Most camera guys are climbing all over the damn place and sticking that thing in our faces like it's their job."

"It…is their job…" she pointed out blankly, watching how the ropes were lying on deck. Something was wrong. That wasn't how it had looked the last 5 times, was it? "Mike, is that…?"

Before her question was out, Andy let out a garbled shout over the intercom, and every deckhand turned towards Mike. She was sure the deck was filled with guys yelling out orders and warnings, but Chris didn't hear it at all. She was completely focused on the line wrapping around Mike's leg and immediately went for her knife, but with her camera in her right hand, there was no way she could drop that, switch the knife to her good hand, and cut him loose before he was either dragged over board or lost the limb. Even with the world moving in slow motion like it was.

Thankfully, Scotty appeared from nowhere and grabbed the knife from her. Between his slicing and Mike's struggling, the leg was free and Mike was halfway across the deck before Chris even realized her knife was gone. But the problem wasn't gone, because with Mike gone from the rail, that buoy wasn't being guided anymore and was, in fact, coming for her face.

"Shit," she mumbled, dropping to her knees and ducking her head. Something hit her back, but when it stayed there, she realized it wasn't a buoy. Judging by the way it moved and forced her to the deck, she figured it was one of the deckhands, but with her face shoved into her camera, she had no idea who was on top of her. All she knew was that they were big, strong, and hurting her shoulders. After what felt like an hour, but was probably two seconds max, the weight was gone. "Thanks."

"Don't sweat it. You okay?" Scotty asked as she pulled her face off of her camera.

"My nose hurts," Chris grumbled, wrinkling her face. "But I'm fine. Mike…?"

"I'm good!" he assured her from his new position by the hydro controls. "All good."

Scotty gave her a hand to pull her to her feet and gave her the knife back. "Glad you had that. I have no idea where mine is."

"Everyone alright?" Andy's voice cracked over the intercom. Chris and Mike shared looks and both gave big thumbs-ups and nods for him to see. "Okay, then get back to it," this time it was John's voice, "but someone else on that deck better have a goddamn knife on them next time!"

Scotty, Neal, and Eddie looked at each other sheepishly as the deck returned to normal. Chris made a face as she inspected her camera. "S'it okay?"

"My baby will live," she grinned at Mike as the crew sorted the crab from the Deadly Pot. "How's the leg?"

Mike did a strange one-legged hop dance on it that made her laugh. "Totally fine, see? Never been better!"

"You're an idiot, Fourtner," she laughed, glad her camera was on to capture that. Could you say 'commercial'?

"How's your face?"

"Well, aside from the obvious genetic flaws, it's fine. But my nose hurts."

"It looks fine. No blood, no pain," Mike shrugged. "Thanks for the quick thinking. I'm alive because of you."

"Don't be dramatic, Fourtner," she rolled her eyes. He grinned at her before using a small wave to slide his way to the sorting table. She laughed at his boyish excitement and made a mental note to keep that knife on her at all times. She'd only had it to cut some new weatherproofing material for her camera.


	5. Chapter 5

*****Again, thank you so much for the reviews! I love hearing what you think. And thanks for staying with the story. It's my first ff ever, so I'm really people are giving me a chance. Thanks! And, of course, nothing has changed. I still don't own any of this crabber shtuff.*****

Chris huddled in her seat and tried to imagine that her coffee actually tasted coffee-like. Her dad had taught her to like her coffee strong, black, and piping hot. At best, Mike's stuff was mildly bland, had to have sugar to counter the strange aftertaste, and lukewarm because she'd let the deckhands get to it first. Beggars can't be choosers, though, and she imagined herself sitting in her mom's pale yellow kitchen with the painted strawberries as a border back in Ohio, drinking stuff that made your hair stand on end and kept you up for hours. She drank that stuff by the gallon. She also imagined that her knee wasn't killing her, that it wasn't stiff and cramped, and that it didn't feel like knives stabbing into her every time she bent or straightened it. When she thought of her parents' house, she could imagine anything. The mind is a powerful thing.

"What are you doing?"

Chris jumped out of her meditative state and nearly spilled coffee all over her Habitat for Humanity t-shirt as the Hillstrand brothers, minus Neal, snuck up on her in the galley. Scotty was on wheel watch, which she knew, but she'd thought everyone else was asleep. Something about being the only one awake made her feel relaxed, and these two put her so on-edge. The contrast was really not all that enjoyable. "Shit, Johnathan, really?" she snapped, holding the cup far away from her to avoid stains. He grinned at her reaction and slid into a seat opposite her at the table.

"You did good today." What? Chris took a ginger sip of coffee to buy herself some time. This "John talking" thing was strange, very strange, and she wasn't sure she liked it. He probably had some hidden agenda, just like Andy always did, but neither of them seemed in a playful mood.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "What'd I do?" John laughed and Andy smirked and rolled his eyes.

"That was a quick reaction with the knife. None of my guys even had one. If I had to put money on someone on that deck being unprepared, you'd be my top pick. You proved me wrong, Chrissy," Andy explained, John nodding along the entire time.

"Chrissy?" she frowned, looking to John for some kind of explanation. This was Punk'd, wasn't it? The Hillstrands weren't nice to her. The Hillstrands had a vendetta against women that wouldn't sleep with them. Right?

"I was gonna go with Munchkin, but I think you're a little tall for that," Andy shrugged before crossing his arms.

Chris frowned again, looking between the co-captains. "That knife…I didn't…"

"Just because you didn't cut Mike out doesn't mean you didn't do right by him. For all the shit we've given you…" John trailed off, looked at his brother and shrugged. "Well, it's in the past. Okay?"

"I…well…yeah, okay." She took another gulp of coffee, realizing just how bad the shit actually tasted. "Thanks," she croaked out finally, earning herself a laugh from John. Andy announced he was taking the wheel, John mumbled something about sleep, and Scotty came shuffling down a minute later to head to his stateroom. Chris held an internal debate about getting more coffee, but she decided it was giving her hallucinations and couldn't be worth it.

"There's no way that happened," she mumbled, scrubbing her mug with a bit more vigor than it needed. "They're not nice to me. They don't call me by my name. They don't _talk_ to me. They don't…" She mumbled to herself while she gave the coffee mug an OCD-like cleaning. On a normal day, she would have put it away, but she left it on the counter to deal with later. Instead, she opened the fridge. There wasn't much yogurt on this boat, but she was slowly eating her way through the supply. Now that everyone had gone in their own direction, she might be able to have some time to herself.

She was just licking the creamy cherry goodness of the lid when she heard a creak. She froze with her tongue halfway across the lid and peered into the dim lighting of the galley. Was that Scotty? A few seconds of silence made her decide it must have been. She hopped up on the counter and told herself it was just the boat.

"Chriiiiiiis….Chriiiiiiiiis…"

She froze again, just as she was about to lick the lid again. Even though her tormenter purposely pitched their voice higher, she could figure this out. Who was mean enough to bother a girl when she was having precious alone time with her diary snacks? The eerie, ghost-like cry came again, and she pinpointed a location to somewhere near the table. She knew it was one of the crew and not the ghost of someone she hadn't been able to pull safely from the icy depths of the Bering, and she was putting her money on John. He wasn't going to sneak up on her, though, and she inconspicuously grabbed the coffee mug to wield as a weapon if needed. Why she'd decided he was going to attack her, she had no idea, but it after his sudden mood change, anything could happen.

"Chrrrriiiiiiisssss?" She pointedly took another sip of yogurt. "Chris, really? You can't let me have _any_ fun?"

When Mike Fourtner stood up from his hiding place, it was more startling than anything Johnathan could have done. Chris jumped, narrowly kept all of the yogurt in her container, and pulled the mug back to hit with.

"Woah!" Mike yelped, held his hands up, and laughed. "I come in peace. Promise."

"Mike," she heaved a sigh of relief and put the mug on the counter gently, "sorry! You startled me. I thought you were John."

"Do I want to know why hitting John with a mug was a good reaction?" Chris shook her head and he laughed as he approached. "Fair enough. How're you holding up?"

"I'm fine," she sighed, rubbing her nose absently. "A little sore, but fine. I think I'm still jazzed from earlier, you know? Can't sleep."

"Same," Mike nodded, leaning against the counter with her. She sighed at their shared pain and took another gulp of yogurt. Mike rolled his eyes used his hand to wipe yogurt off of her nose. "You're a slob." She stuck her tongue out. "Gorgeous, but messy," he grinned.

"What did I tell you about calling me hot, Fourtner?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Nothing, actually. But I didn't call you hot, did I? I called you gorgeous." She playfully shoved his shoulder, and he swayed back and nudged her elbow. "But, seriously, I came in here to thank you for earlier. I wasn't kidding when I said you saved my life."

"I didn't do anything," she insisted. Someone needed to know she hadn't been nearly as prepared as they thought she was. This was getting a bit awkward now. "I only had that knife because the water shield on my camera was messed up and I was cutting a new sheet seconds before we went on deck. I've never had one on me before."

"Doesn't matter," Mike shook his head without even thinking about it. Apparently, her big revelation had no effect on him at all. "Coincidence or not, you had the knife, pulled it out, and I'm still here with both my legs. Way I see it, that's 'cuz of you."

Chris swallowed and focused awkwardly on her knees. "I didn't _do _anything, Mike."

"You just called me by my first name," he pointed out softly. She had. Had she done that before? She bit her lip and felt safe enough to look at him, but her words were lost when she realized just how close he was. "Thank you for saving my life."

"Mike…" she started, but those words just wouldn't come out of her mouth. Instead, some strange, breathy mess came out. She choked on even that as he leaned towards her, and she briefly thought about what a bad idea kissing Mike Fourtner would be. It was a big responsibility, being the first female on any of the on-boat camera crews. Was she willing to risk any respect she'd managed to get because of one marginally frightening experience?

She took in his closed eyes, the distance between him, that work-callused hand on her forearm, and let out a quiet, "Fuck it," before leaning towards him, too. Mike was her best friend on this boat, the only one consistently looking out for her. If he was half the man on land that he was on this boat, she could easily imagine herself with him.

His kiss made her completely forget the entire internal debate. Instead, she got wrapped up in the gentle way his lips moved with hers. She felt the question in his kiss, and her body answered before her mind was sure what to say. Her hands rested on his chest of their own accord as one of his hands snaked through his hair. He deepened the kiss for an all-too-brief moment before footsteps from the wheelhouse had them both springing apart. Mike was suddenly at the opened fridge, staring in like his life immediately depended on the food inside, and she was ready to strike with that damn mug again.

"Really?" she mumbled to herself, surprised at her subconscious violent tendencies. Shrugging, she rested the mug on her knee as Andy came sauntering into the kitchen. "Who the hell is watching where we're going right now?" she snapped as he grabbed the mug from her hand. Andy gave her a look and shrugged.

"We're not going to crash and die, chill out," he muttered as he poured himself a cup of that horrible coffee. "I needed caffeine and apparently no one on this boat can hear. So, I had to get it myself. Am I interrupting your slumber party or something?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

There was that awkward moment when neither one of them had any idea what to say. Finally, Chris couldn't stand the feeling that she'd just done something horribly stupid, so she slid off the counter and thought about the darkest corner of the ship to curl up and die in. As a parting thought, she muttered, "That coffee's terrible," on her way out. She was at about the wheelhouse stairs when Mike called her back. She turned, took the yogurt container from his outstretched hand, and left without another word between them.


	6. Chapter 6

*****I own no part of Deadliest Catch. No shocker there.*****

Chris stared heavenward and hoped that, if there was Something up there, whoever or whatever it was would give her a little pain relief. There was no way she could handle being on deck with her knee, but 6 Advil had done nothing to dull the pain. Old injuries die hard.

"What's wrong?" Don asked, watching her swing her leg slowly as he checked their camera's for film. She shrugged and was prepared to lie when he interrupted with, "Knee hurt?"

"No," she shook her head, but the lie was too obvious. Much as she hated the response Don would give her, she knew she had to admit defeat on this one. "It kills, Donny. It only hurts this bad when…"

"The weather's changing, I know," he nodded. "You're like an old person." Chris wrinkled her nose at him, and they both shared a laugh. "Tell you what. How about you take the wheelhouse until you think you can go out there. Sitting out a string might do you some good, and I kinda miss being out there anyway."

"I don't know…" she bit her lip. She hadn't had any real contact with Andy or John since the strange encounter in the galley, and she was perfectly fine with that. John, she knew, was running between his stateroom and the bathroom with some stomach bug she prayed wasn't contagious, but even Andy alone might be too much for her. She could fight through a day on the knee given the alternative.

"It's not really a question," Don grunted as he grabbed his gear. "Get your ass to that wheelhouse." So, having no other choice, she stepped out of her deck paints, grabbed her camera, threw her hoodie on the table in the galley as she passed by, and hoisted herself up the steps to the wheelhouse, which turned out to be harder than she expected.

Andy wasn't quite as surprised to see her this time, but she still noticed the way his eyes widened when he realized it was her. "Hey, Chrissy. What brings you up here?"

"Don misses being on deck," she said quickly, busying herself with her camera so the half-truth seemed like the whole story. "Have you heard anything about the weather?"

She tried to make the question sound purely conversational, and even pointed the camera at him for added affect, and Andy seemed to buy it. "Something's coming our way. I haven't heard too much about it. Strong winds, maybe. We'll know more when it's closer." She nodded quietly, wondering if she should share her "insider information". Would it be helpful, or would he just start calling her Grandma?

She decided against it. The Coast Guard would let them know about bad weather. Andy wrote down the crab counts and shared a few sound bites here and there, but they were pretty quiet overall. Chris thought briefly about asking why he'd stopped with the nicknames, but decided questions would only make him change his mind. She didn't want to know what else he'd come up with for her given the chance. They'd only just erased the barf bet since it had been nearly a week and John had puked more than she had. No need to bring attention back to herself.

In fact, she was actually starting to enjoy this gig. Something about watching people avoid death instead of coming in to save the day when everything else failed made her happy. She cringed when these rednecks did something ridiculous, but their lack of regard for personal safety only went so far. In fact, being on this boat made her feel somewhat safe. Considering all the ways she knew things could go wrong, that was a pretty big feat.

"Can I ask you something?" Andy interrupted, and she nodded. "Off record?" Chris made a face, hoping the "captain cam" would catch the action if something major happened, and exaggerated her motion of turning the camera off. "What made you leave the Coast Guard?"

"Excuse me?" she frowned. No, she had no idea what she'd expected him to ask, but that wasn't it. "Why'd I what?"

"Leave the Coast Guard. You said you were going to be in for life. But you're here. Why? What happened?"

There was a long pause as Chris debated how to answer him. Andy didn't rush her, didn't even look at her, but that somehow made her need to sort her thoughts quicker. "S' a long story," she mumbled finally, looking out at the water.

"I've got time."

Chris laughed bitterly. "I meant that I'm not sure I want to talk about it." Andy cast her a look that she couldn't interpret to save her life, then returned his gaze to his crew just in time to get the next count. They were on good fishing; nothing spectacular, but good. The wheelhouse stayed silent as he marked something on his screen, probably where they'd set their next string.

"You can't tell anyone," Chris said softly.

Andy looked up at her with raised eyebrows, like he'd forgotten she was there. "I won't. I'll take it to my grave."

For whatever reason, she believed Captain Andy Hillstrand. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, or the seriousness in his voice. Whatever it was, she honestly believed he'd take her story to his grave, that he'd rather be shot through the heart than tell it to another living being. So, she cleared her throat and started to talk.

"I was a rescue swimmer for 5 years, part of one of the best damn helicopter squadrons you'd ever seen. We must have saved…I dunno, dozens. But…we'd lost dozens more. One of the first things they tell you when you train for first response is that you'll pull more dead bodies out of the water than you will live ones. It's a fact of the job. It doesn't make it easier, but…" she trailed off and turned her gaze back out to the water.

"There was a fire on the Windsprint. Gorgeous boat, real small, heading back to Saint Paul to offload some cod. It was bad when we got there, but all five of the crew were on deck. The boat was going down, the whole deck was covered in water, but we were sure we had enough time to get them all up. The only tricky part was the wind. They had to be real careful raising and lowering the basket, you know? So, that took some time. We got their engineer up first cuz he had a lung conditions, and the other guys insisted the greenhorn went next since he was gettin' married. And…and they were, uh, lowering the, the basket back down from him…" she stopped to swallow around the lump in her throat.

"Take your time," Andy said softly, sending her a slowly glance. She nodded and smiled weakly.

"It was just so windy, you know? And the boat was in the trough. The wave came out of nowhere, slammed into me like a ton of bricks. I saw the other two…go, but I lost track of them. I was washed across the deck, slammed into a pot, and lost consciousness when I hit the rail on the other side of the deck. I'm not sure how they pulled me up, never thought to ask. I didn't wake up 'til I was in the hospital in Anchorage. They think hitting the pot is what shattered my knee cap; I've got a fake one now. We never found the other two.

So," she heaved a sigh and forced a small smile, "they trained me with a camera, hoped I could still do some work for them. But I couldn't just watch. I did what I could, but I wasn't cut out for sitting around. At least here I'm part of the action. There…nothing."

"You're lucky to walk away from something like that," Andy said softly. Chris shrugged non-committaly. "So…are you up here because of your knee?"

She laughed at that. "I am, yeah. When there's a big change in weather coming, it hurts really bad. Don thought I should sit out this string."

"Good idea," Andy nodded, and he let them fall into silence. "I won't tell anyone."

"I know."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Gee, Andy, if you're not careful, I might think you're interested in my life or something," she smirked, hoping he was changing topics so she wouldn't cry. She could already feel some tears welling up at the old memories, and it was all she could do to hold them in. She was thankful for the shadow of the monitors above her that hid her face a bit. Otherwise, the broad daylight would give her away completely.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Andy snorted. "I was just wondering…you and Mike seem to be getting along pretty well. Anything I should…know about?"

Aaaand she found herself wishing he'd asked about the accident. She wasn't about to pour any more of her heart out to this man. There had been too much honesty in that wheelhouse for one night. "Mike…and I…are good friends, and I'm not sure it should be anything more than that. Now, I really need to turn my camera back on or Don won't let me sit out a string even if I can't walk."


	7. Chapter 7

*****Figured I should post before my weekend becomes completely Superbowl oriented! Hope you enjoy! Sorry it's a bit short- hopefully I'll be able to post the next part soon, which I know is going to be longer. That should make up for it! I still don't own anything to do with Deadliest Catch. Shocking, I know*****

The big storm had Christina banished to the wheelhouse indefinitely. Even though she insisted her knee was good enough to work on, Don wasn't taking any chances with the wind and waves on deck. Secretly, she was glad to be in the warmth and safety of the wheelhouse. She watched how the water buffeted the crew around and heard the wind screaming, and felt pretty good about sitting this one out. Her knee was better, but it wasn't 100% yet. If she was talking to Don, she'd say it was probably 90%. If she was realistic, it was maybe 75%. She really needed the barometer to settle down a bit.

John and Andy had no playful, brotherly banter in the wheelhouse that night. She learned quickly that Andy wasn't talking, but John answered her questions remarkably well. His answers were short, but they were to-the-point and enough to satisfy the producers sitting safely on dry land. She found herself hating those producers as a wave rocked the ship and sent Scotty sliding on his ass across the deck. Andy laughed at that and made an obscene comment to his nephew over the loudspeaker. He was promptly flipped off, which made him laugh again, but he was quickly serious as he shifted the boat to steer them out of the trough.

"What'd'ya think, bro? Time to call it?" he asked, risking a glance at John.

"I think it's that time," John nodded. "You gotta focus on getting us through this. No need to risk the guys."

Andy picked up his hailer, but found himself sending out a, "Watch out, watch out!" instead of sending the guys inside. The wave knocked Mike off his feet, and Chris found her eyes glued to the deck. She didn't realize how tense she was or that she was holding her breath until he got up and flashed a thumbs-up. "You good?" Andy asked, and Mike held both hands up before heading back to the rail. "Alright, secure the deck and head in, boys. We're callin' it."

John told Andy he was going to get some sleep so he could take the wheel in an hour or so, and Andy mumbled a thanks as his brother left. It was clear to Chris that there was no talking now, that all of Andy's attention was out there at the unforgiving waters. She didn't want them to go down tonight any more than he did.

She contented herself with just watching him work. She took in the fact that his arm muscles were completely tense as he fought to keep the boat cutting through the water. Even though she had no clue where he was taking the boat, she trusted that Andy knew what he was doing. His jaw was tight and he wasn't blinking nearly often enough for a normal person. He wasn't really breathing often enough, either, but she'd rather that than the quick, shallow breathing of someone who was panicking. Something about the slow, deep breaths made her feel safe.

"I have a ranch in Indiana. Raise horses."

"That's…good?" Chris frowned, looking around the wheelhouse to see if Andy was really talking to her. Convinced that he was, she figured he was starting the conversation for a reason and kept it going. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," he nodded. "I'm the cowboy of the family. John…he's a rockstar. A redneck, but a rockstar. I could never be like him. I listen to country and wear cowboy hats and go to rodeos." He paused to watch a particularly menacing wave narrowly miss them. "Every time I face a storm like this, I swear to myself that, after the season, I'm going to get off the boat, go to my ranch, and not come back." He fell silent as a wave crashed against the wheelhouse window, but Chris was at a loss for what to say. Thankfully, he continued.

"I could do it, you know. Financially. I could walk away tomorrow and live just fine off of the horses I raise."

"But you always come back."

Andy smirked bitterly. "Yeah. I _always_ come back. I'm a fucking idiot, you know that? My whole family is. We're gonna die out here one day. This life killed my old man, it nearly killed John once, got Phil, and it'll get me in the end. But I always come back. You know why?" Before she could answer, he plowed on. "It's in the blood. Being out here, defying God just by waking up in the morning…makes you feel alive. Knowing that my dad did it, and his dad before him, and the Scotty's down there just waiting to take the reins…you don't walk away from that. You're a damn fool for not walking away, but you don't. I don't know what I'd do if I wasn't out here. Every season, I'm tired and sore as hell and can't wait to go home, but I go home and within a week, I just want to get back out on the water. When it's all you're good at, it's all you ever do with your life. It's all you know how to do."

"That's not fair, Andy," Chris insisted. "To yourself or to the job. Is there nothing out here you like?"

"I love it out here," Andy answered as if the question was crazy, his eyes glued to the waves. "There's nothing else I want to do. That's what makes me such a goddamn moron, Chrissy." She was again at a loss for what to say, but Andy once more continued the conversation. "I need you to be honest with me about Mike. What's going on?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I've never needed a boat dating policy before," Andy frowned and shook some unwanted thought from his head. "I really don't want to think about that. I'm not _going_ to make a crew dating policy. So, if anyone were to…experiment, I guess, I hope for their sakes that it goes well."

Something about the honesty from Andy made her feel obligated to speak the truth herself. Still, she flicked the camera off before answering, because being honest with Andy was different than sharing with the dozens of people that would review her film. "He…we kissed a few nights ago. But we haven't had time to talk about it since then, and I'm glad for that. I'm in a weird position, being the first female from Deadliest Productions sent out on a crab boat. I don't want to ruin it for any future women, and I don't want to lose my respect with the guys here. With you."

"Do you want to be with him, though?"

Chris shrugged and sighed. "I don't know, Andy. I really don't know."

"Mike's a good guy; you'll figure it out. Just…if it doesn't go his way, don't hurt him, okay? I like having you on my boat, and I don't want it awkward around here in the future. Fuck," he swore as a wave threw the boat off-center. The time for talking was done, and Christina was glad. She wasn't sure what else to say.


	8. Chapter 8

*****As always, thanks for the reviews. This was originally going to be two short posts, but that planned changed to speed this along a bit. And, of course, here's a disclaimer for you: Ain't any crabbers out my way.*****

"The storm's over, Don. I wanna go outside!" Chris insisted.

"My niece wants a pink singing unicorn. We all have our dreams."

She narrowed her eyes at him and plopped down next to Scott in a huff. He started to laugh, but a glare from her cut him off. "I _know_ you're wearing your microphone, Scotty Hillstrand," she growled. Mike laughed from the stove and asked if she was on crack. "Don!" she whirled on the producer. "What did I tell you about him?"

"I believe you threatened my life with a spork. I wasn't exactly terrified," Don shrugged. "Look, if you want to go outside that badly, whatever. I officially give up on you." He waved a hand towards the deck like he was sending away a servant. "Nothing's happening out there."

"Go sit on your ass for a string and tell me you don't go nuts inside." Don wrinkled his nose and mimicked her silently as Mike shoved a bowl of chili towards him.

She didn't want to spend the last few hours before they reached their offload with Andy playing 'true confessions'. Their heart-to-hearts stuck with her a bit longer than they should, and she hated the way their conversation always turned to Mike. It was like Andy couldn't open up to her, or let her open up to him, without driving that wedge between them. Why the hell did her blossoming…whatever…with Mike matter so damn much to the captain anyway?

What did she want from Mike, anyway? Flings weren't her style at all, but long-term relationships and crabbers didn't exactly walk hand-in-hand. Then there were all those business complications. There probably weren't any policies at DP about this sort of thing, since the testosterone was so thick on these boats that it was like a floating bar fight, but she couldn't imagine any of this going over well there. She _liked _Mike, though. Just how far did she want to take that?

John filled up a bowl of chili and headed up to the wheelhouse so Andy could eat, Eddie mysteriously vanished as soon as dishes needed washed, and Don grudgingly admitted that he needed to get a microphone on Scotty before they reached port. Mike got up to do the dishes, and Neal mumbled something about it not being his turn to clean. Chris mentally slapped herself for imagining she could go another day without talking to Mike. What had Don said about singing unicorns? She heaved a sigh, pushed herself up, and slid her bowl into the water-filled sink. Mike glanced up at her and quickly focused back on the suds. This was going smashingly, wasn't it?

"You wash, I'll dry?" she offered, holding up the first towel she spied even though it looked a little worse-for-wear. Her hoodie would probably dry the bowls better.

"Sure," he nodded. "It'll make this go way faster. Thanks." She nodded and took the first bowl he handed her, careful not to brush their hands together in even the slightest way. She had only just put the bowl away when the silence already started to feel oppressive. Mike seemed to feel the same way because he cleared his throat and gave her a sideways glance. "You sure you're gonna be okay running around during offload?" For a second, Chris was sure that he knew. He knew all about the accident and her knee, and she was about to telepathically attempt to make Andy's head explode while simultaneously beating herself up for trusting him when Mike handed her the next bowl and continued with, "We all end up in 8 million places; you'll be going nuts trying to track us. We're like toddlers on Pixie Stix."

Chris immediately felt horrible for doubting Andy and hoped her psychic powers weren't as good as she pretended they were. Why did she immediately assume the worst? Mike was just being a gentleman, as always. "I'll be fine," she mumbled as she called herself a variety of names her mother would smack her for even knowing. "Thanks."

Mike nodded and stacked the next bowl in the last one, since she seemed to be falling behind. The man washed dishes too fast for, well, a man. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he closed his mouth and turned back to the sink. Almost as quickly as he'd decided to stay quiet, he dropped the spoon he'd picked up back into the sink, rested his hands on the ledge, and turned towards her. "Was I out of line last night?"

Chris heaved a sigh and put her bowl and towel down. This conversation couldn't afford distractions. "I…no, you weren't. I don't know what I want right now, Mike. I know that I like you a lot, but…I actually kind of like this job, and there's nothing else I could do that would keep me out here. I don't want to risk all that."

"You're not even willing to try? I mean, how do you know how this would affect your job if you won't give me a chance? What if…this could go somewhere, you know?"

Chris bit her bottom lip and felt her heart twinge as she held his pleading gaze. She didn't _really_ know how everyone would react. She had a damn good guess, but no solid evidence to back it up. And, like Andy said, Mike was a good guy. He was actually putting up a fight here, and that's what she valued most.

"Aw, what the hell?" she grinned at him, picking her bowl and towel back up. "There's no harm in giving it a shot, right? Just…we'll take it slow, okay? One day at a time. I'm the one that'll catch shit from the crew here, and I don't really need that right now."

"Slow. Absolutely. Yes. Sloooooow," he nodded vigorously, and Chris laughed and rolled her eyes at him. Mike splashed some water at her, and she retaliated by smacking him with her towel.

Mike grinned and took her forearm to pull her in for a soft, sweet kiss. "Believe me," he murmured, "I'm well aware of that."

* * *

With another hour before they reached the dock, Chris felt safe enough to hop onto the kitchen counter with her Ace wrap for a pre-emptive strike. Her knee wasn't going to bother her on deck if she had anything to say about it. She'd already taken way more than the daily dose of Advil, and her liver was probably cursing her for it. Now it was time for Phase 2. She slid off her Ohio State sweatpants so she was just in a pair of athletic shorts, which was really cold in the empty kitchen, and propped her left leg up on the counter. She stuck her right leg out so the waves hitting the boat didn't send her flying onto the floor, which would surely attract some attention. After a minute of adjusting to the rocking of the boat, she lined the wrap up just above her knee and pulled it tightly around. Naturally, as soon as she had just overlapped the end, a wave made her throw her hands out to keep her balance and the wrap came undone.

"Motherfucker," she hissed, starting again. She called the bandage several other rude names as her next few attempts failed, until she was ready to move to a new location. She really didn't want to sit on the kitchen floor knowing how food had a tendency to end up down there while mops did not, but she might not have a choice. If she sat at the table's bench, her leg would be in plain sight of the wheelhouse, so the floor was her only option. She had just hopped off the counter when creaking on the wheelhouse steps made her freeze. Naturally, she'd completely forgotten that John was taking the wheel before they docked.

Andy wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge without a word, giving Chris false hope that he might not see her. Of course, he cast a casual glance over his shoulder, looked not-at-all surprised to see her in shorts, in the kitchen, with an Ace wrap, and rolled his eyes. "You need help with that?"

"No," she lied. "I'm just fine." She started to bend towards the floor, but Andy caught her elbows and pulled her back up. "Andy-"

"Don't start. Hop up on the counter; I'll wrap it for you. It's the left, yeah?"

"Right," she nodded. Andy glared at her. "I mean, yeah. The left. You don't have to-"

"Chrissy, shut up. On the counter. Now. Don't make me be the captain." Chris rolled her eyes and hoisted herself back onto the counter.

She watched as Andy gently picked a spot to start and asked if that was right with only his eyes. She nodded, and he applied a little pressure with his fingers as he pulled the bandage tightly around her thigh. She hissed at how cold his callused hands were, which he naturally mistook.

"Too tight?" he asked, immediately stopping. She shook her head, and he kept going without further questioning. She winced in genuine pain as he wrapped the knee itself, and he stopped again. "You sure?"

"It's fine," she assured him. "Just hurts a little. Nothing I'm not used to." They fell back into silence as she tried not to show just how much it actually hurt. Her knee was improving drastically now that the weather was calming down, but sometimes wrapping her knee was worse than her knee pain. Once the bandage was on, she'd be fine. It was just the process that hurt like hell. As a distraction, she decided she had to break their silence. "Do you believe in God, Andy?"

"Do I…" he frowned at the question as he wrapped some more. "Haven't really thought about it that much. Our mom used to drag us to church all the time as kids. I think that's what put John off. As for me, it's hard to say. It's hard to imagine there's someone up there watching over us when you see all that we do out here. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno," she admitted. "Being out here…I've had the weirdest urge to _pray_ lately, and it's actually starting to piss me off." Andy laughed at that as he took the roll of medical tape from her to seal the wrap. "Every time I pulled a body out of the water, I swore there was no God, that no all-powerful being would let a man die like that. But every time we saved someone, I _knew_ He was up there. That there was something up there that protected him and brought us to him, because there's no way a man should stay alive in the Bering Sea like that. I would lose and regain my faith maybe 5 times a day in the Coast Guard. Now, I have no fucking clue what I believe. I was hoping maybe someone who cheats death on a daily basis could offer some perspective."

"Well," Andy frowned, gently squeezing her thigh and calf to see if the wrap was tight enough. She nodded that it was. "I'm really not the person to ask. I used to believe in God, but I don't really know anymore. If there's no God, why the hell am I still alive? But if there is a God, where is He when we need Him?" Chris nodded. "I haven't seen nearly as much as you have, but we've probably had the same faith crisis somewhere along the line."

"Probably did," she muttered, feeling that Andy's hands were still on her leg.

She licked her lips and tried desperately to remember why she should stand up and leave. Something in his eyes made her forget about that, though. Something in his eyes made her forget everything. It was hard to say if she leaned towards him or if he leaned towards her, but there was less space between their faces than there should have been, and Chris was completely helpless to stop it. The scent of cigarettes and coffee filled her senses, and her brain just wasn't working right. She couldn't think straight, couldn't control the hand that wrapped around Andy's wrist, couldn't stop staring into those eyes.

"Fuck," Andy swore, snapping his head away. Chris's brain went from not working at all to working in hyperdrive, and she flew off the counter to grab her sweatpants. "Chrissy…"

"It's fine. Thanks…for…the knee. Wrap. Knee wrap," she mumbled, pulling her sweatpants on while trying to use her hair as a shield. "_Get your shit together, girl!"_ her brain demanded.

"Chrissy…Mike's a really good guy."

She snapped her head up to yell at Andy for yet again dragging Mike into it, but he was gone. If not for the wrap on her knee and her pounding heart, it would have been like he was never there at all.


	9. Chapter 9

*****As always, thanks for your reviews; they're great pick-me-ups, especially when I'm swamped with school work! I know, I know, this one ends in a terrible spot. I'll post soon to make up for it.**

**Of course, there's the same disclaimer as always.*****

"Mon-nay in the BANK!" John laughed at the camera as cannery workers hoisted crabs into the nets. "That right there is better than gold!"

"You," Chrissy grunted as she switched her camera to the opposite shoulder, "are so dramatic. Who's checking the counts?"

"Mikey Boy," John pointed. "And it ain't drama if it's true!" Chris laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Johnathon Hillstrand, you are a complete idiot," she tossed over her shoulder as she climbed up to film some of Mike getting the crab counts.

"Hey, you," he grinned at her. She grinned back.

"Hello there," she smiled. "How're the counts looking?" She adjusted her camera a bit to make sure he knew it was more than just a casual interest. Mike nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"The numbers look good," he nodded. "But that's 'cuz we're amazing. Those are some damn good crab in those tanks. Nicest crab to come in this season, I bet."

Chris laughed and flipped her camera off. "What is it with this crew and the exaggerations? I can't use this stuff!"

"I'm not exaggerating! Who said that?" he faked offense. "Hey, since we're docked until tomorrow, wanna grab a drink after this?"

_"Chrissy…Mike's a really good guy."_

"Shut the fuck up," she hissed, and immediately attempted to play it off like she was quietly sniping at John, who was yelling something to Andy on the docks about their beee-yootiful crab. It was really irritating her, and not just because it was making Andy laugh. "A drink would be great, Mike."

"Great," he beamed, and leaned forward to plant a gentle peck on her lips. For a second, she swore she smelled cigarettes and coffee, but she silently scolded herself. Mike didn't smoke, so that was clearly impossible. Why the hell was she so stuck on Andy? What the hell had he done to have this much control over her body? No one got to control her senses like that, not if she had anything to say about it.

"You know that thing I said about 'one day at a time'?" she asked, glancing at Andy as he stuck his hand in Don's camera and said something that made her coworker sigh and look heavenward for strength. Mike nodded. "Well…fuck that. I mean, I don't want it all over Dutch Harbor, but let's give this thing a shot. A real one, okay? See where it goes if we put a little effort in."

As Mike wrapped her in a bear hug, Chris tried to convince herself that she didn't feel Andy's eyes on her back. She was doing this for the right reasons. Probably.

* * *

"This pot's gonna be a good one. I can feel it, my brotha'," John announced. Andy stood up in hopes of getting a quicker look at the first part of their second trip out. Not that standing had ever helped him before.

"Hell, I gotta get out there," Andy announced, purposely hip-checking his brother's chair as he headed outside. John yelled something after him, but Andy was beyond hearing it. He had a good feeling about this string, too, and they could really use to find a hot fishing spot this season. If this was the place, he wanted to be there to see it. The weather was great, with only a few waves coming over the side of the boat, which was the best you could hope for this far into opies.

Andy let out a triumphant yell as the pot appeared over the rail stuffed with crab. Mike did the same thing as he fed the rope through the coiler, and Scotty did a strange thing with his arms that was probably some sort of victory symbol. Chris liked this part, the part where the crew got so excited. Their first reactions were so genuine and adorable. She loved being able to capture it on film to be forever documented. The crew dumped the crab onto the sorting table and became generally goofy to Chris's camera, holding up crabs and doing silly dances with them, giving her quotes that made no sense, and the likes. She laughed at their enthusiasm, her smile not even faltering when she and Andy made eye contact. She moved around so her back was facing the rail, hoping to get an angle on the crab pile without a crabber in the shot.

In their enthusiasm, no one noticed a small wave wash the line off the pot and through the hole the crew shoved juveniles and females through. Neal and Mike were off to one side of the table loading a tote, Eddie was getting some more bait ready, and Scotty was picking up a crab that had fallen off of the table when Andy saw the line pull tight. The crew heard the gut-wrenching grinding noise, but none of them had the reaction time that the captain did.

Chris felt herself get yanked aside, and mere seconds later, the pot that had been resting peacefully behind her on the dogs was ripped across the deck, slamming the sorting table into the opposite wall. She had been half a second away from being crushed to death, and everyone knew it.

The last time someone had almost died on the Time Bandit, everything had gone silent, but not this time. This time, Chris heard every sound. She heard the screeching metal as John stopped the boat, heard Mike calling out to her, heard the whole crew shouting to each other about cutting the line and this and that and whatever.

But, for the first time in a very long time, Chris had actually faced death, and she remembered that she really hated this feeling. This feeling that she had no reason to be alive right now, that better people than her had faced much calmer situations and hadn't walked away.

Andy's hand was still on her shoulder, clinging to her like he didn't believe she was alive either. In a move that neither of them expected, she whirled around, threw her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his shoulder. Andy's arms wrapped around her almost instantly, hugging her so tightly that she felt like nothing on earth could possibly touch her. Nothing could get through his grasp, and that was exactly what she needed to feel moments after avoiding such an accident. She let out an uncharacteristic sob into his shoulder, and the floodgates opened. The last time she was consciously aware that she might die had been years earlier, and the Coast Guard had a full staff of highly trained therapists to deal with that shit. She'd lied through her teeth so she didn't have to do more than the mandated assessment. Maybe that wasn't the best idea. Dying scared the shit out of her more than it should in her line of work.

"Chris!" she heard Mike call, but he was stuck on the other side of the duck as the men fought to cut the taught line. "Chris!"

"She's fine," Andy assured him, his voice sound muffled because of her grip around him. "You're fine," he repeated softly. "I've got you."

She wormed away a little while staying in his arms, locked eyes with him, and tried to say something, anything, to thank him for saving her, but opening her mouth just made her blubber like an idiot. Andy shushed her, wrapped a hand through her hair, and led her head back to his shoulder, where she went back to shaking uncontrollably.

"Someone needs to cut the line from the prop," John yelled, jumping down the steps from the wheelhouse to the deck. "I've got us shut down now, but we can't stay dead like this."

Scotty said something that Chris couldn't even begin to make out, but she planted her hands firmly on Andy's chest and pushed herself away. "I'll do it."

"Like hell you will!" Mike snapped immediately. "You nearly got…" he cut himself off agitatedly, motioning wildly to the bent table. "No way!"

"Captain," she appealed to Andy, knowing there was no way to get through to Mike, "I have the most diving experience out of anyone on this boat. I can handle it. I'm rattled, but I've been on dives in way worse shape than this. That line needs to be cut immediately, I have my own suit because I'm weird like that, and you know I'm the person to do this."

Andy gaped at her. How did she always manage to leave him completely speechless? His eyes were still locked with her, but he started turning towards his brother for some sort of help here. He couldn't send her down right now. But he had to. Who else could make the dive? She was right; she'd probably been diving more than everyone else combined.

John watched his younger brother uncharacteristically balk at the decision in front of him. _"Now is really not the time, man," _John thought. Mike was frustrated by his captain's delay and turned to John for back-up. He wouldn't get it, though. He didn't have his brother's reasons to hesitate. Just as he was about to say something, Andy squeezed his eyes shut and turned towards the interior of the boat.

"I'll get you the oxygen tank."


	10. Chapter 10

*****I just had a DC marathon with my roomie today, and it inspired an ending to this (which was desperately needed, because I actually didn't know where it was going until about 2 hours ago) and the starts of a new story. All in all, a very good day!*****

Chris took a few deep breaths as she and Andy went down onto the water in a small little thing she didn't feel comfortable calling a boat. She had confidence it would run, but compared to the Time Bandit? It was like putting a kitten next to a lion. Andy led them towards the back of the boat as the crew watched anxiously from above. She checked her oxygen for the umpteenth time, a habit she was in ever since the time she'd gone out, hadn't checked, and didn't have as much oxygen as she should have. She was a bit overzealous with the checking now. Just as she was about to flip over the side, Andy grabbed her arm. "Be careful."

Chris held his gaze for as long as she could, but something about having his hand on her elbow and matching that intense stare with Mike watching made her feel dirty. Which was ridiculous really. _"He's the damn captain. He's looking out for you. Stop it,"_ she ordered herself, giving Andy a nod. With that, she took one last, calming breath, and flipped over the side.

The moment when the water first hit your body was the first of three things Chris hated about cold water dives. Until she started jumping into the Bering for a paycheck, she'd always preferred being too cold to too warm. Not so much anymore. Once her body was reasonably adjusted to the shocking temperature change, she made her way to the propeller.

_"Fuck,"_ she thought, looking at how tightly the rope was wrapped. She studied it for as long as she dared, trying to figure out the key cuts to make to free the prop. Hacking away wouldn't do a damn thing if she didn't plan it right. She blinked a few times, feeling strangely calm in the deathly quiet of the water. Down here, there was no Mike, no Andy, no Deadliest Productions. Down here, it was just a woman with a knife, cutting at a seriously tangled rope.

If her calculations were correct, she actually had about half a tank left when she watched the rope float away from the prop. She smiled as widely as she could around her mouth piece and headed for the surface. This was the next part she hated about cold-water dives. Resurfacing. You never realized just how cold the water was until you got out of it. She spit her mouthpiece out just as her head broke the surface, and Andy's relieved face greeted her as he hoisted her onto their boat.

"Took you long enough."

"Sh-sh-shut up-p-p," she chattered, rubbing her arms to get some blood flow. "I h-had plenty of-f-f air."

"You okay?" he asked, rubbing her arm with one hand as he hooked the boat to be hoisted back onto the deck. She nodded absently, like she hadn't really heard him.

"J-just c-cold," she assured him, climbing onto the deck first. Mike was there in an instant, catching her just before her knee sent a wave of pain coursing through her. Ah, yes, the third thing she hated about cold water dives.

"Get her into the shower," John ordered. Chris pushed Mike off of her.

"I can handle this," she snapped. "I'm not a b-baby, g-guys!"

"You're shaking and can't talk. Let me help you," Mike insisted, following her through the galley. She whirled on him in the doorway to the bathroom, catching herself on the doorframe so she didn't lose her balance and her credibility all in one motion.

"If you touch this wetsuit, I'll shove you overboard. I shower by myself."

"I…woah, hey," he held his hands up defensively. "I wasn't even going there. You just made this, like, 20 times dirtier than I was."

Chris rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair before disappearing into the bathroom. She set a lukewarm shower, not wanting to warm up too fast and shock her system in the opposite direction. She felt bad wasting the crew's hot water when, really, she would be perfectly fine. She was expertly trained in cold water diving, after all. This was nothing; that's why she'd volunteered just minutes after facing death. That's why she'd pushed herself away from…

"Stop it," she ordered her brain, refusing to think about Andy right now. Somehow, that simple hug had been more intense than anything she had felt with Mike, and that thought bothered her the most as she dried herself off, wrapped the towel around herself, and exited the bathroom. With that thought lingering, Mike nearly scared the shit out of her. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you. I…brought clothes," he said sheepishly, holding out her softest pair of sweatpants, Kenny Chesney t-shirt, and her favorite old zip up Coast Guard hoodie. She took the clothes gratefully, not pointing out that there was a distinct lack of underwear in his peace offering. Men never think of these things.

"Thanks," she smiled, kissing him gently on the forehead. "Can I change in your room?"

"Sure," he nodded, leading her to it. He pushed the door open and made sure Eddie wasn't there before motioning her in. "I'll be outside."

"You can stay," she shook her head. "Just, no peaking." He held up his hands and made a show of turning around. She threw the clothes on quickly, glad her hoodie was at least baggy. "Okay," she yawned. "Thanks."

"Why don't you sleep in here?" Mike suggested. "Andy called off fishing, and you look exhausted."

"Why'd Andy call off fishing? Everything's good to go," Chris frowned.

"I dunno. Probably freaked him out too much. Who knows? Who _cares_? Get some sleep," he insisted, pushing her lightly towards the bed. "You need it."

"Mike, I'm fine," she mumbled as she discovered just how amazing a real bed actually was. "But maybe I'll stay here for a minute."

"You're still shaking," he murmured. "You want another blanket?"

"M'fine," she shook her head. Mike rolled his eyes at the standard answer, unzipped his hoodie, and crawled in the bed next to her, her back to his stomach. She closed her eyes as he pulled her hips towards him and wrapped his hoodie around her arm.

"Better?" he asked. She murmured something that may or may not have been English and relaxed into his body, deciding that she could get used to this treatment very easily.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been lying there when Mike next murmured to her. Maybe she'd drifted off to sleep and his voice woke her back up, or maybe it was only a few seconds later. Sleepiness has a way of messing with your head like that.

"I love you, Chris."

She heard him, plain as day. The urge to answer him was there, but she swallowed her words. Instead, she kept her eyes closed and made sure to keep her breathing perfectly even. He probably expected her to be asleep, anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

*****Your reviews really make my day. Thanks so much! Had a slow weekend, so I got a lot of writing done. Of course, the disclaimer still stands.*****

After the pot debacle, Chris found herself once again banished to the wheelhouse. If she was ever a producer and supposed to sit up here, she'd feel like she was a 4-year-old being stuck in the corner day after day. Andy seemed thankful to have her back up there instead of on deck, where things suddenly looked a lot more dangerous than they had just 48 hours ago. John was feeling a bit overprotective after that extremely close call, and he'd actually suited up and gone on deck. He wasn't actually doing much work, but it was no different than having him sitting around the wheelhouse. Today, Chris was actually glad to not have him up there. Despite what had almost happened in the kitchen, Andy was the one person on this boat she could really talk to about what was racing through her mind.

"Mike told me he loved me," she blurted out into the silence. Andy visible lurched but refused to let any emotion show on his face.

"Did…" he stopped when his voice cracked, swallowed, and tried again. "Did he? When?"

"After the dive. He was…" she balked at how to get the details out, and the fact that Andy wasn't looking at her made it that much harder. "He let me sleep on his bed instead of crashing in the galley, you know? And I was mostly asleep, and he just kind of whispered it. I don't think he even wanted me to hear it, so I didn't say anything."

Andy finally looked at her, letting out a sigh. "Are you not sure yet?"

Chris opened her mouth and looked up at the ceiling as she thought. "No," she decided finally, "I have no idea. Mike's a sweetie, but I don't know if I love him or not. I mean, if I did, I wouldn't…" she trailed off and shook her head, and Andy seemed content letting the conversation die. She wasn't, though. "I almost kissed you, Andy."

"Don't," he shook his head and focused on the deck. "You shouldn't think about that."

"How do I not?" she exclaimed. "I think about you more than I should. When you pulled me away from that pot...I'd still be holding onto you if John hadn't mentioned the dive."

"Chrissy," Andy shook his head, "stop. I'm not the guy for you. We're too honest for me to bullshit you, and I always want us to be this open. That's why I gotta say that you should let me go."

"Why?" she snapped. "You have more hold over me than Mike does, Andy. And I'm really torn here, because he's this sweet, funny guy that really wants me around, but you're this…strange, strong man that I don't understand, that drives me completely insane."

"I'll make it easy," Andy said scratchily, keeping his eyes looked on his crew. "Mike's the guy for you. He's the better man. He'd do anything for you. If he was in this wheelhouse, and you were on land and needed him, he'd turn this whole ship around just to get back to you. Me? I wouldn't do that. I'd be worried as hell, but I'd stay out here because those guys," he nodded towards his crew, "and this boat, they will _always_ come first. I let you go on that dive when I should have been the first one ordering you not to. You'll always be first in Mike's heart. I can't give you that."

"Bullshit," Chris spat out, shaking both from anger and the struggle to keep in her tears. She couldn't be even half as emotionless as Andy was right now, and that was just pissing her off more. "You're just making up stupid excuses to push me away because you're so damn afraid of letting someone in. You tell me all these crazy personal things when no one else is around, things I know you haven't told them to anyone else, and that terrifies you. And, honestly, it terrifies me, too. So, yeah, you're right, Andy. Mike _is_ the better man." He snapped his head around to face her as she leapt to her feet and glared at him. "But not for all the bullshit reasons you gave me. Mike's the better man because he will always fight for me instead of running away with his tail between his legs."

She wanted to say more, to scream and curse and cry, but she wasn't going to do that. Andy's face was unreadable, but she saw in his eyes that her words had hurt him more than she'd meant them to. That didn't make her feel any better, and the wheelhouse didn't really feel big enough for the both of them anymore. Without another word, she grabbed her camera and stormed out. Don would just have to go up there. She couldn't deal with this shit anymore.

* * *

"Yeah, I know, but…yeah, but Donny's…I'm not trained…Jeff, I don't know…ugh, fine, my lord, I'll be the damn producer for king crab. Get off my back!"

Mike laughed to himself when Chris flipped off Don as they stood on the docks of Dutch Harbor, using a real phone to speak to their box. The producer on the Northwestern had scored a job filming a documentary in the Caribbean, and Don was bumping over to his old boat as a replacement. Apparently, Chris was going to be his less-than-thrilled replacement.

Mike smiled to himself right up until he reached the wheelhouse steps, where he hesitated at the sight of Johnathon coming down.

"Andy up there?"

"Yup," John nodded. "You're not getting a raise. Or the boat."

"Well, hot damn, I'll just fly home now," Mike sighed in defeat. John hissed out a laugh and smacked his deckhand's shoulder as he headed towards the galley.

"Good season, Fourtner. See ya' at the Elbow Room."

"Yup," Mike muttered, mustering the courage to climb the steps. He wasn't really sure why he was doing this. Andy glanced at him as he leaned over his notebook of crab numbers.

"Hey, Fourtner. John's going to get the final numbers now. We'll do checks tomorrow."

"Yeah…no, I figured," Mike nodded, looking out the wheelhouse window at Chris and Don on the docks. Some other people had joined them, presumably more cameramen and producers, and they all seemed to be laughing at Chris's "troubles". Don shrugged and said something that got Chris poking his chest and gesturing wildly. This earned her more laughs and a few pats on the back, which only got her more wound up.

"You've got a good woman down there," Andy said, casting the smallest of glances to the dock before returning to his notebook.

"I know I do," Mike nodded. Now was the time to bring up what had been bothering him ever since the dive several days ago. Ever since he'd seen the look that had passed between Chris and Andy before she went under. "I'm a lucky guy."

"Yeah," Andy mumbled. "…You are. You treat her right, okay?"

"I will," Mike assured him. "The distance is gonna be rough, but…we'll figure something out."

"You'll be fine," Andy assured him, looking back out at Chris, who was now laughing along with the others. "What's a couple months apart, right?"

"Ain't nothing as far as I'm concerned. As long as she still thinks I'm the guy for her, you know? Distance has a way of…putting stuff in perspective."

"What're you saying?" Andy frowned, setting his pencil down. He shifted his weight to lean on his notebook and turn to face Mike. Mike shrugged and tried to remember the speech he'd practiced earlier.

"I'm saying…I dunno…Chris is an amazing woman. I couldn't blame any guy that was interested in her. And…there are better men out there than me...Captain. I don't want to lose her, obviously, but if she finds someone that makes her happier than I can…"

"I wouldn't worry about that," Andy cut him off sharply, turning back to the notebook. "She cares about you. Anyone can see that. And any guy that would get in the way of that, he's not a better man."

Mike shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. "Yeah, well, some people don't see it that way."

"I do," Andy said definitively. "And you should, too. You have nothin' to worry about. Now, go tell her we're leaving in an hour for the Elbow Room. It'll probably take her that long to get ready."

Mike opened his mouth to say something else, but Andy had completely turned his back to mess with something at the command consol. Their indirect, completely failed man-to-man was over, and it was clearly not to be reopened. Ever. He paused in the doorway, though and turned back to his captain.

"I don't know how to explain all this to her. With the boats. She's gonna freak."

"You'll figure it out," Andy shook his head. "The time'll come."


	12. Chapter 12

*****Sorry for all the cliffhangers lately. I didn't plan that originally. I just wrote such short posts to start and now that I'm combining them to add some substance to each update, it feels like everything ends in a terribly painful spot. I'm evil, and I fully accept this! Thanks again for the reviews and all the people that have story alerts on this. It's awesome knowing people like what I'm writing. You guys are great!*****

"MIIIIIIIKE!" Scotty cheered as Mike and Chris entered the Elbow Room. They'd managed to get off the boat before John and Andy, despite Chris's demands for more prep time. Mike had finally convinced her that the guys would be too drunk to tell if she was wearing make-up or not, and she eventually gave in. "Lookin' good, Chris!"

"Yeah, who knew she was a girl!" Eddie grinned. Chris flipped them off, sliding into a seat next to Mike. Secretly, though, she was glad the guys got to see her looking good. She was in a pair of dark skinny jeans, some black leather knee-high boots (without heels, of course, to easily get on and off the boat), a black mock-turtleneck, and her favorite bomber jacket. She'd taken the time to really scrub her hair and let it dry naturally, leaving it loosely curly and vanilla-scented, and had actually put on some foundation and a bit of her favorite plum eyeshadow.

"What're you drinkin?" Mike asked. She shrugged.

"Whatever you're having, I guess."

"She'll drink anything," Don confirmed. "The girl downs jagerbombs like nobody's business."

"That was ONE time!" she half-insisted, half-whined. "And _you_ dared me, if I remember right."

"I don't see how you _could_ remember right, considering how many jager's you had," Don countered playfully. Chris flipped him off as Scotty ordered a round of whiskey shots for their table. Since they were one of the first groups there, the bartenders were quick to get the drinks out, and the glasses were in front of them in record time.

"To Mike!" Scotty held his glass up, and Eddie repeated it.

"To Mike!" Chris chimed in. "What'd he do?" Mike looked at the wall to his left, glared at Scotty, then looked to her.

"Chris, I was gonna tell you later, so I didn't ruin the night…"

"Just tell me now, Mike," she snapped, trying to not let her voice get high pitched and frantic. "What's going on?"

"Next season…for red king…I'm not gonna be on the Time Bandit."

"What the fuck?" she exclaimed, letting the hand holding her glass fall back to the table. "What are you doing?"

"They…well, Johnathon, really…he asked me to go to the Cornelia Marie. They lost a good deckhand, Freddie, he went to another boat, and they need someone to replace him. And the captains, all of them, not just John and Andy, kinda look at Jake and Josh like their own sons, you know? So, John asked me to go over there, be their new deckhand so they don't have to train a greenhorn on top of…well…" he glanced around, "on top of everything else."

"John asked you to go?" she asked, looking to everyone at the table. No one would meet her gaze. "Not Andy?"

"Well, I mean, they were both there, but John did the talking since he's captain during kings. Why? Is that important?"

Chris downed her shot like an expert, not even choking on the aftertaste. "I don't know," she admitted. "I'll be back."

"Chris," he caught her arm as she stood up, "I'm sorry. I swear I was gonna tell you. I just wanted us to have tonight."

"I'm not mad at you," she assured him. She kissed his forehead, earning some hoots from her crewmates. "But I do have stuff to clear up with the powers-that-be, so I'm adding this to my list and doing it before we're all too drunk."

"I don't believe you. But, I don't see how I can stop you," he grinned. "You'll be back?"

"I'll be back," she assured him. "Have a drink waiting for me."

"Be nice," he called after her.

"Angels will be jealous of my kindness."

* * *

"Andy fucking Hillstrand, your sorry excuse for an ass better be on this goddamn boat or, I swear to God, I'll throw you in the fucking Bering when I fucking find you!"

Chris was in the middle of the Time Bandit's deck, but she was not about to storm through the entire boat to find that man. Instead, for whatever reason, logic told her that it was better to scream for all of Dutch Harbor to hear. That was obviously the mature way to handle this situation. "Andy! Andy, where the hell are you, you son of a bitch?"

"Woah!" Andy finally appeared, jumping right over the steps from the wheelhouse to the deck. "Holy shit, Chrissy, what are you doing?"

"What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing?"

Andy looked behind him, as if she was yelling to someone else. He'd been dozing off over some paperwork in the wheelhouse, and this wasn't exactly the best way to wake up. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn't think you were a passive-aggressive pansy, Andy! I thought you were the kind of man that _dealt_ with your problems instead of sending them away to _work on another goddamn boat!_"

Ah. That's what this was about. The realization hit him instantly, and Chris watched his face sink. He'd obviously expected this news to reach her after everyone had left town, or at least after either she or he had. No such luck.

"Could we go inside and talk about this? There are people…cameras…"

Chris wanted to scream that they couldn't, that they'd deal with this right now, but he had a point. Andy had a family and a business that, despite her intense hatred of him at the moment, she respected. Much as she wanted him to suffer, Johnny and Scotty and the rest of the Hillstrands didn't need the extra publicity. With a deathly glare, she stomped by him into the galley. He eased the door shut behind them, and she immediately whirled on him as soon as it was closed.

"Could you be more cowardly, Andy? Sending Mike away like that? I mean, am I being vain right now thinking this is about us?"

Andy visibly tensed at the word. "You're…it's…no...you're…John wants him to go. I just…didn't argue."

"You pushed _me_ away, Andy. I…put myself out there for you, and you told me no. You don't get to do that _and_ get rid of the competition. That's not fair." Not that anything about this had been fair from the start.

"It's not like that, Chrissy. I swear, it's not," he shook his head. Andy reached towards her, but she crossed her arms and stepped away from him.

"Then tell me what it's like, Andy, because I can't wrap my head around this. I can't understand why you'd get rid of someone that you'd considered handing your boat over to just to babysit two guys that, from what I've heard, are damn good crabbers. I don't get that."

"It's…I don't…" he took a deep breath and let it out shakily. "I don't know how to explain it. John…well, John really does want him to go for that reason. It makes sense, and, even if there weren't all…this, I'd probably want him to go, too. Russ has been having some trouble lately, and he could use the paycheck that the Time Bandit could bring him instead of what he makes on the Kodiak. We owe him that much after all we've been through, and Mike on the Cornelia opens up a spot for him. Things work out that way. This thing with…you and me…I didn't think about it. Not until after we'd decided."

"But you can't pretend you're not happy about it."

Andy growled in frustration, and when he stepped forward, Chris boldly stayed her ground. "Oh, sure, I'm happy about it. I'm fucking ecstatic, Chrissy! I'll have you sitting in my wheelhouse all season, worried half to death about a man on another boat every time a wave washes over _our_ rail. Every storm, every Coast Guard call, your thoughts are gonna be on him, and I'll be the one you turn to, because I'm the one you come to with everything. That just _thrills_ me. I'm looking forward to that _so_ damn bad, I wish we were doing it right now!"

"Why are you being so childish?" she exclaimed.

"Oh, and screaming obscenities from the middle of my deck was the _height_ of maturity!"

"If you would just admit for one second that you felt something, _anything_, about me, this wouldn't be happening! Mike wants me. Hell, Mike _loves_ me, and he's not afraid to let me know that! He doesn't make excuses or push me away, and who doesn't want that? I told you I was falling in love with you, and you did nothing but…"

Suddenly, Andy grabbed her forearms gruffly, startling her into silence. Their gazes locked, which always made her mind go blank, and she knew without thinking that their breathing was perfectly synched. His lips crashed into hers, and she stumbled back from the force. She let Andy's tongue slide into her mouth as she reached back for something, anything, to hold onto. While Mike was always gentle and sweet, this kiss was full of pent up desire and frustration. There was a longing that she knew she was reciprocating, and that thought snapped her out of the trance Andy had put her in.

She snapped her head away, yanked her arms out of his grasp, and clasped a hand over her mouth. Andy's eyes were still full of lust, and they were both gasping for air. It took her a minute, but Chris finally mustered the strength and presence of mind to reel her hand back, wind up, and slap Andy solidly across the face.

"You don't get to do that. That's not…that's not fair!" she barely got out through her tightly clenched teeth, storming for the door. She whirled around right before opening it. "If you want to be with me, tell me. If you don't, let me live my life. Just tell me now, Andy, plain and simple. Should I leave Mike to be with you?" Andy looked down and away, and the silence that stretched out between them was answer enough.

"Then stop…" Stop what? Stop making her love him? Stop being there when she needed him? "…Just stop…" she muttered finally, pushing the door open. She let it swing shut behind her, leaned against it, and slid down into a crouch onto the deck.

Half of her hoped the door would open, that she'd be engulfed in those arms that blocked out the rest of the world. The other half wished she had never agreed to come back to this boat, and that she could fly home and never come back. With her back still against the door, she buried her face in her knees, hugged her legs, and finally cried over the man that was letting her go.


	13. Chapter 13

*****As always, thanks for the reviews everyone. I've got a crazy week ahead (thank you, midterms), but I actually finished writing this story this morning, so hopefully I'll have 5 minutes every couple days to update. If not, blame Abnormal Psychology and/or Deviant Behavior. It's what I normally do!*****

Chris laughed as Frank's camera fell off of the ledge above the wheelhouse for the third time. He let out a frustrated growl and attacked again, still refusing to ask for help. She had to admit, he was no Don, but she liked her greenhorn cameraman. He'd be good on deck, if, as Jeff would say, he didn't get seasick and die. The Time Bandit boys would like him.

Which reminded her that her crew should be showing up any minute now. As if she expected them to be reading her mind, she glanced over her shoulder, but no one she was paid to film was sneaking up on her. Don was already engaged in a microphone war with Edgar Hansen further down the docks, and Chris outwardly groaned as she realized she hadn't warned Frank about Scotty. She made a mental note to do that.

She felt kind of like a den mother this season, having someone new under her wing. She'd be up in the wheelhouse watching him get buffeted around 24/7. In a word, she'd go nuts. This man needed to succeed, if only for her sanity. If she had to sit around, which had been almost a punish last year, it better be for some greater good. It would be nice, though, not to worry about sudden weather changes knocking her out of commission. She did admit that.

"Frank, you need help?" she laughed, watching the camera fall again. He insisted he had it, and she both admired his tenacity and laughed at his naivety. The crew would have fun with him. Speaking of, she hadn't had much contact with the crew in the off season, other than a Discover Channel party in April when the season premiered, in which she and Don made up a drinking game involving typical speech phrases, a game so successful that Mike had to take her to her hotel early. She'd both underestimated the cheesiness of the speechwriters and forgotten just how potent red wine could be.

As if on cue, strong arms wrapped around her waist, startling her enough that she yelped. Scotty Hillstrand laughed at the fact that he'd scared the crap out of his new producer, and he put her back on the deck before she decided she had to hurt him. "Who's that?"

"Frank Jones. He's a hoot, determined as fuck. He's a good one."

"Works for me," Scotty shrugged. "If you like him, he can't be terrible. Dad and Uncle Andy are on their way up, and I think Eddie got stuck picking up Russ."

"Sounds lovely," she mumbled, remembering exactly why she'd had so little contact with the Hillstrands over the past year. Aside from the fact that they were mostly centered in Washington, while she'd gone back to take care of her parents in Ohio, there had never been a resolution to any of the issues brought up last season. If this trip was going to go smoothly, that would have to be tackled first thing, and Chris wasn't sure she was ready for it yet.

"I think Dad wanted to talk to you, actually. Something about wheelhouse set-up, maybe?" Scotty frowned. "I dunno; I don't really listen when he talks. But there they are now, so have fun!"

"Yeah," she mumbled, then quickly snapped around and yelled, "Frank! That man," she pointed to Scotty, "watch him like a hawk." Scotty laughed, eyed up the new guy, and disappeared inside. "A hawk, I tell you. He's crafty."

"Who's crafty?"

"Your nephew," Chris sighed wearily at Andy's voice. Hopefully, John wanted to speak to her alone. That would at least buy her some time to plan a meeting that had kept her up at night for weeks. "Captain, you wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah," John dumped his bag on deck. "Get that for me, bro. We have important captain-producer things to discuss!" He clapped a hand on both Chris's back and Andy's before leading her up towards the wheelhouse. Andy shot John one of those brotherly, "I'll get you, asshole" glares, smirked, and grabbed the bag before disappearing inside. Chris sat down in her usual chair in the wheelhouse, but John leaned against the wall and stared at the tiny room like he hadn't seen it in years. When he finally looked at her, her suspicions that this wasn't really a captain-producer talk about camera set-ups was confirmed.

"My brother's in love with you."

To save herself from the embarrassment of choking on her own spit at the blatant way he said it, Chris fumbled for the water bottle she'd stored up there during an earlier set-up. She quickly downed about half of it before either of them continued.

"I don't know what you did to him," John plowed on once he was sure she would live, "but he's been a mess. I mean, he's been fine, but I'm his brother. I know when something's wrong, you know?" John gave her a half-smirk, proud of his genius. "He wouldn't talk about you at all for the longest time. Eventually he told me everything, though."

"I figured he would," she nodded, staring at her knees. "I don't know what you want me to do, John. He's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want me."

"That's not true," John shook his head and crossed his arms. "It'll take a lot for him to admit anything, and he's not gonna do that while you're with Mike. He's an idiot like that."

"So…what? I'm supposed to leave a happy, healthy relationship for someone who does nothing but fuck me up inside? How can I walk away from such a good thing for something that could go so wrong? I love Mike. I told him so after…last season." After her fight with Andy, if she was feeling specific.

"That's a lie, and we both know it. I'm not exactly a romantic, but even I can tell that you and Andy have something way bigger than you and Fourtner. He's just…" John paused to find the right words, "you know he'd never hurt you."

"He already has," she shook her head, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "He's hurt me more than anyone else. How would you feel if some girl was driving you mad, you knew she felt the same way, and she kept insisting that you be with someone else?"

"I'd suggest a threesome." Chris glared at him. "Kidding! I'm kidding. I just want you to know that I know what's going on and want this to work out. I'm not saying that you're doing the right thing, but I actually kind of understand you. I probably don't have the whole story, knowing Andy, and I know you chicks do crazy shit when you get all emotional."

"John, don't even start," she rolled her eyes.

"Hey, I'm trying to be on your side here!" John held his hands up defensively. "I want to tell you to leave Mike this instant and make crazy love to my brother, but I know you won't do that. Don't know why the fuck not, but you're not that kind of person, and I respect that. But you have a choice to make, and you need to make it soon. You can't keep stringing both of them along like this; it sure as hell ain't fair to them, and it ain't fair to you, either. This is serious, and I think you both have a real chance to be happy here. So, I'm just telling you what I told him, and what I'll keep telling both of you if this shit keeps up. Don't walk away from this with regrets, and don't fuck it up. Okay?"

Chris nodded, and when John held his arms out, she stood up and walked into them. Somehow, a Johnathon Hillstrand hug was exactly what she needed right now.

* * *

"Promise me you'll be careful out there, Mike," Chris said as he wrapped her in a hug. Mike laughed and rubbed her shoulder blades with one hand, the other woven through her hair.

"You don't have anything to worry about. Me? I'll never get any sleep thinking about all the ways you'll probably get yourself killed this season." Chris huffed and pulled her head off of his shoulder.

"My job is to sit on my ass and listen to John tell me to leave because he needs privacy to think. And let's not forget…"

"Who was in the Coast Guard, I know, I know," Mike rolled his eyes. "That doesn't make you invincible."

"Believe me," she rolled her eyes, "I'm well aware. As long as my greenhorn pans out, which he will, knock on wood," the couple bent down, simultaneously rapped on the wood of the docks, and stood up, "everything's going to be fine."

"It better. If you're not back in one piece, I'll kick some ass."

"Mike," Chris made a face, "exactly who on the Time Bandit do you think you could take in a fight?" Mike contemplated for a minute.

"Would Eddie be drunker than me in this fight?"

"You didn't choose a Hillstrand. Smart man," she grinned, planting a quick kiss on his lips. "I should probably head back. I think I have to kick some ass at suit drills soon."

"Don't embarrass them too much. Last year was pretty horrible for us."

"Last year was embarrassing because no one liked me. This year could be interesting."

Mike laughed. "Before you go…what are you doing after the season?"

"After…king crab? Probably opies, if they like my work as producer. Why?" she frowned, not sure where this was going.

"No, I don't mean…I mean, I know your parents had some health issues that you had to be home for, but, now, if you were to…move…would they be alright?"

"Why would I move? I love Ohio." she frowned. "It's not like I live with my parents or anything. I have my own place. Where would I be…wait…" she took a step back from Mike and glanced at the Cornelia Marie as if this new crew was putting crazy notions into his head.

"Don't look at me like that!" he half laughed. "I'm not proposing or anything; I think we both agree we're not that far along. I was just wondering if you'd at least _think_ about…maybe…moving in with me?"

Chris's eyes widened, and her jaw hung open because she started to speak but lost the words. Faintly, she heard her voice being called, but that hardly seemed to matter. No, it did. She had to go. She didn't have time to deal with this. She had a suit drill…and a crab season…and, then another…and…

"Mike…" she heaved a sigh and ran a hand through her hair. "Wow…Mike…this is…I mean, that's really big. And…I have to go. You hear that, right?"

"I _see_ that," he corrected. "Andy's staring right you, holding a suit. Look, I know I kinda sprung it on you, and I didn't really expect an answer right now. Don't let it weigh you down. Just, you know, give it some thought. Take all the time you need; the offer's out there. Okay?"

"Okay," she sighed in relief. She threw her arms around him and kissed him for the last time in they-didn't-know-how-long. "I'll think about it. Promise."

"I know you will. Love you, Chris."

"Yeah," she tossed over her shoulder as she started jogging towards Andy and the Coast Guard inspector with him, who she didn't recognize and therefore couldn't easily justify her tardiness to, "love you, too."


	14. Chapter 14

*****If I counted right (which I'm about 95% certain that I did) there are 3 chapters left after this one. Which somehow sounds wrong; that number might go up. I'm going to look at my ending again and see if it feels rushed or needs something…extra. We'll see what happens, and I'll keep you guys posted. Thanks for reading and reviewing! And you know the disclaimer, I'm sure*****

"Where's that dumbass of yours?" John grumbled, squinting through the rain-covered window at his deck. Chris looked up from her camera and mumbled that she had no idea. John picked up the hailer and snapped, "Where's Frank?" to his crew. Russ yelled something that only John understood, and he rolled his eyes and motioned downstairs.

"Puking," John explained. "Sucks for you. There's some damn good crabbing going on out there."

Chris sank back in her chair wearily, knowing John was right. They'd been on amazing numbers in this area, and Discovery always wanted footage of the extremes- the best fishing and the worst fishing, the best weather and the worst weather, the most dangerous accidents and the most amazing saves. Frank might have been legitimately sick, which she could hardly hold against him, but not being able to hold your lunch down because of a few waves was no excuse for leaving the deck. All the fishers were out there, she would be if it was her job, and it was just demoralizing to everyone for him to be gone. He better be damn sick, or else she'd shove a camera in his hands and tell him to puke over the side between shots. It's what everyone else did.

A quick check confirmed that, while he'd live, Frank wasn't in the best shape. Even at her most violent and heartless of moments, Chris wouldn't have forced him back out there. Instead, she made a deal with him. He'd go up in the wheelhouse with John, who was unsurprisingly quiet when the greenhorn was around, and she'd go out on deck. She missed it out there, anyway. Sitting in the wheelhouse with John and Andy was fun, more fun than it had been last season, but she missed the action of facing the Bering head-on.

"John doesn't talk to me."

"John doesn't talk to anyone until he gets to throw firecrackers at you or you almost die."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Frank frowned. Chris shrugged.

"It didn't help me any, but it's true. Now, go tell him I'll be out on deck," she ordered.

With Frank taken care of, Chris popped some more Advil, put her deck clothes on, grabbed their outdoor camera, and headed outside. It felt good to be back on deck, even if her knee protested, and the guys seemed happy enough to see her. Scotty threw a crab at her when he saw her, Eddie said something about her finally doing her job instead of sitting around, and Russ asked where the chick came from. Yes, it was good to be back on her boat.

It had been maybe an hour of great fishing when the wave came over the rail. John had warned them, but, when holding a camera, there's only so much you can do. Chris hoped she was in a good spot, but as soon as she saw the wave, she knew she was going to hit the deck. So, she protected her head and her camera as best as she could, stayed on her feet for as long as possible, and braced for impact. Hitting the deck mostly hurt her shoulder and her hip, but being washed into the opposite wall was what hurt her knee. She'd expected the force of the wave to die out before then, but her leg had jammed into it. She stayed on the deck for a minute, not sure she would be able to stand up, but when Scotty offered his hand, she hauled herself to her feet. Two shaky steps later, she felt it give out under her and grabbed the rail right before she went down. She mumbled something to Scotty about needing more film and limped inside, hoping no one was watching.

She grabbed her Ace Wrap, let out a string of curse words, pulled her sweatpants off so she was just in her shorts, and eased herself onto the bench in the galley with her leg sticking straight out. It was an odd angle, and if anyone came inside, she was busted, but she knew from experience that the counter was out. She'd learned that the floor was never an option. This would just have to do. She was just about to start when familiar hands took the wrap from her.

"I got it," Andy assured her quietly, bending down to prop her leg up on his knee. "S'it hurt?"

"Like hell," she nodded. "I jammed it…"

"Against the wall. Yeah, I was watching. I figured you'd come in to wrap it. You okay to go back out?"

"I'll be...shit…" she swore as he started to wrap. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Just stitch me up, doc."

Andy rolled his eyes and smirked. "John thinks I'm in the bathroom, so you owe me for the ridicule I'm getting for this."

"I thought you told him everything," she frowned, wincing slightly at the pressure needed to wrap her knee properly.

"Not this," Andy shook his head, focused on his task. "I gave you my word that I wouldn't tell anyone, and my word's pretty important to me."

"So…you didn't tell him." Andy shook his head. "He thinks we almost kissed…what, just messing around?"

"I kind of glazed over that bit," Andy shrugged. After a minute, he cleared his throat. "I'm surprised Mike didn't throw a fit about you coming back out after you told him this."

"Yeah, I, uh," she rubbed the back of her neck. "I kind of glazed over that bit, myself." Andy smirked. "We don't really talk about the past much."

"So, I'm the only one who knows?"

"You, my squad, my family, and my best friend, all of whom started watching this show because of me. And Dezzi would like to be set up with your nephew, FYI."

"I'll see what I can do," Andy smirked, taping up the wrap. "You should tell him."

"Mike?" she frowned. "Nah. No. I don't…I don't think so. It's…that's…" That's what? Too personal? She'd told him she loved him nearly 8 months ago. The accident was a major part of her life; it's what brought her to the boat and to him. "No, I don't think so. I don't think it's that big a deal."

"If it wasn't that big a deal," Andy rolled his eyes, "you'd tell him. The fact that you won't…maybe you should think about that. I mean, you told me."

"Yeah, well, that's you," she rolled her eyes. "You're…" she stopped before she said something stupid. Something that would take them down a road they needed to avoid to make this season work. Andy looked at her warily, but she shook her head.

"Help me up," she ordered. Andy rolled his eyes and mumbled something about how demanding she was, which made her laugh. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, but neither of them pulled away once she was up. Their eyes had locked, and his eyes never failed to hold some kind of power over her.

"I told him I loved him after last season." Andy looked away. "But I don't know if I really do. I only told him that because I was just…_so_ pissed off at you. I was furious, and I thought that being with him would help. I just can't understand why you won't fight for me."

"Why is that so important to you?"

"A girl won't stick around if she's not wanted. Every time I try to get something real out of you, you put up all these walls. I can't live like that. I know you care, and you show it sometimes, but the small things you do just confuse me more."

"Have you slept with him?"

"That's an appalling question, Andy," she shook her head, but she obviously wasn't appalled at all. They were too open with each other, had too much between them, for any of his questions to bother her anymore. "I haven't. It's…come up, but…I haven't."

"Think maybe we're both a little stuck?" Andy asked softly, giving her smallest of smiles. She reflected it back at him.

"I guess we are."

She leaned towards him, maybe to kiss him, maybe to hug him, maybe just to head outside. She really had no idea what she was doing. Something just told her to lean towards him. Their eyes were still locked, and Andy leaned to meet her.

He broke from the spell first, and pulled away with a sigh. "Chrissy…no. I'm not that guy." She immediately stepped back, both out of embarrassment and the need to get away before his latest rejection came out of his mouth. She didn't need to hear any more excuses.

"You were in February," she snapped, grabbing her camera. Her anger wasn't really at Andy, who was just doing the gentlemanly thing. She was mad at herself. Everything about _them_ made her mad at herself. Often at Andy, but always herself.

"That was…" Andy started, but she shoved her way by him and opened the door.

"Just save it," she shot over her shoulder, ready to leave. She didn't want him to give her yet another excuse, tell her that things were different then or that it was a mistake. Because to her, that kiss was the most honest thing that had ever passed between them. Before she could close the door, though, he grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Would you stop walking away from me?" he hissed, glancing out to make sure they weren't attracting attention before glaring at her. "I don't know what you want from me, Chrissy, but I can't do it for ya. You've got yourself a damn good life goin' on, and I don't know why you want me screwing it up."

"I don't even understand what the fuck that means," she grunted, struggling and failing to break her arm free. "I wanted you to stop thinking about Mike and go for what you want, and I think you've done that. I've given you enough chances, haven't I? I mean, I asked you flat out if you loved me or not, for Christ's sake! It doesn't get bigger than that. So…" she heaved a sigh and ran her free hand through her hair, "yeah, I think we are stuck. We're stuck because we had a chance to be something but we missed it, and now we're too stubborn to cut our losses and move on. So I guess," she used the shock value of her words to break her arm free of Andy's grasp, "that this is it. I can't do this anymore. It's not fair to anyone. I'm happy with Mike; he doesn't drag my heart through the mud on a daily basis, you know? It's a good life. And you," she took a step back so she was back out on the deck, "deserve to be that happy, too. So we need to figure out a way to work together through the end of the season, and I'll request a new boat after that. It's not fair to either of us for me to stay any longer than that."

"You're…really going to leave…just like that?"

"Just like that," she nodded sharply, eyes on his chest. "It's better for both of us. Now, I need to get to work." She slammed the door before he could say anything that she would be foolish enough to stay for.


	15. Chapter 15

*****Ok, I was right last time. There are two posts after this. Thanks for reviewing, and thank you those that read and don't, too. I'm not one that comments often, so I understand. Buuuut, I love reading your reviews, so if you ever feel like commenting…*****

It took a lot of time on deck for Chris to calm down. Something about working through pain and being beaten by waves for over a day straight mellowed her out a bit. Andy could push her right to the edge, but, at the end of the day, she much preferred sitting next to him in the wheelhouse than battling the elements out on deck. A week into the season, she was already going soft.

So, once she was certain that Frank was good enough to go back out, she took her proper place in the wheelhouse. The weather was much calmer, anyway, as if the storm hadn't even happened. John mumbled something about being thankful to see her, which made her wonder what poor Frank had gone through up there. She turned on the wheelhouse camera, settled into her chair, and sent the tiniest of nods towards Andy before asking John the obligatory questions about what the boat was up to. No need for Andy to think she was still mad. In fact, she'd cooled off much more than she'd expected to. In the last string, she'd realized just how weary she was. Not so much physically, but emotionally. This game was wearing thin. Maybe he had been right all those months ago. Maybe Mike was the better man. At the time, she'd only agreed with him out of anger, but she was beginning to think that they should have let it all drop then and there. This was making her tired.

She wasn't the only one tired, either. By the time the deck was cleared, John could barely keep his eyes open.

"John, you're falling asleep. Let me take over."

"M'fine," John mumbled. Chris snorted, earning herself a glare.

"I have recorded proof that you're exhausted, Captain. Grab a couple hours sleep," she urged. John held his hands up and yawned.

"I can't take on both of you. Scotty'll be up for his watch at 2."

Andy gave John a playful shove and dodged the slap aimed for his head. He sank into the captain's chair with a groan, and silence settled into the wheelhouse. This was the first time they'd been alone together since their latest almost kiss, and it felt like they had finally run out of things to say. Other times, Chris would have confronted him, demanded answers, but she had nothing to say about that anymore. Everything now was just rehashing old wounds.

But Chris _did_ have something else to say, the kind of thing she could only ever talk to Andy about. It had to kill him when she mentioned Mike, but he practically encouraged it. Besides, he deserved to know.

"Mike asked me to move in with him before the season started. I haven't answered him yet."

She expected Andy to tell her how amazing Mike was, that she should do it, how cute their babies would be, whatever. This was supposed to be their end, after all. They were making their choice, right now, whether he realized it or not. So, she braced herself for him to choose Mike for her. Instead, he just let out the smallest, "Oh," she'd ever heard from a grown man.

Silence settled into the wheelhouse again, and Chris wasn't sure if there was any way to break it this time. Was this what they had become, just two people that kept everything inside? It hardly seemed worth it to stay now, since Andy clearly had nothing to say and she couldn't bring herself to talk to dead air. His silence left her at a loss for words, so she stood up to make her way out. She started to reach for Andy's shoulder but thought better of it. That would have felt a bit too much like goodbye.

"Don't," Andy's voice broke the silence just as she put her foot on the first step down. She grabbed the railings on either side and turned to lock eyes with him.

"Don't what?"

"Don't…don't move in with Mike. He's a good guy, but…I don't think I can do that, Chrissy. I've been telling myself that I can handle you being with him, but living together… that's too much for me. I love you; you know that. Well…I think you know that. And there's no reason for us to not give this thing a shot. I had it in my head before that I was bad for you, and you were better off with him, but that was just a load of shit, wasn't it? Yeah, this boat'll come first, but you're on this boat, and I know she comes first to you, too. I mean, you came back despite everything. And if I really thought he could make you happy, I'd stop getting in the way. I wouldn't have let him go to the Cornelia, I wouldn't have tried to stop you from kissing him, and I definitely wouldn't have kissed you myself. But I did all of that because I know we could do this right if we'd put our pride away and give this a shot."

"Wait…" Chris held her hand up, "you purposely came for coffee that night when Mike and I first kissed?"

"Hmmm?" he frowned, thrown from his train of thought by her reaction to a smaller detail of his speech. "Oh yeah, that was on purpose. But I was obviously too late. So I told myself to let you go, that Mike had won, but I can't do that. I'm not the kind of guy to ruin a relationship, Chrissy, but we've been playing this game for so long that I think I have anyway. I don't think it's honest to imagine we can ever be 100% loyal to other people. So…I'm putting myself out there and saying that, if you'll take me…I'll be here."

Chris was silent for a long time, studying this man that continued to surprise her. Andy was quiet, too, and the only sound was of the waves gently lapping against the hull. She wasn't sure what she'd expected from Andy when she told him, and she certainly wasn't sure what she'd wanted from him, but this was the last thing she was ready for. She hadn't expected him to leave the choice up to her. It certainly changed a lot of things.

"Thank you for fighting for me," Chris smiled softly, and she just made out Andy faintly smile back in the moonlight. "I just need a little time to sort through all this."

"I figured," he nodded. "Do what you need. You know where to find me."


	16. Chapter 16

*****Thanks for the well-wishes. I did survive my midterms. Did my grades? Well, that remains to be seen. But I think I did just fine. **

The Bering Sea had calmed significantly that night. No terrible storms made the water choppy, no ice made it impassible. Chris rarely saw it like this, and she was never on deck when the crew was safely tucked away inside. It was strange being on a still deck, during a still night, with no crew cracking jokes and no pots to haul. It was just her out there, holding her sat phone as she stood at the bow. Andy was probably watching her, as she'd be doing if roles were reversed, but even his eyes on her couldn't break the solitude she felt.

He'd said that he loved her. John had told her as much, and she'd known it in the back of her mind, but hearing it come straight from his mouth had shaken her. Yes, part of her had wanted to hear exactly those words come out of his mouth for far too long. That didn't mean that she'd been prepared for it. Mike had said he loved her, too, and it hadn't had nearly this effect on her. She told herself it was because Andy's admission meant that she had to make a choice, but she knew there was more to it than that. This choice had been a long time coming.

On one hand, there was Mike. Mike, who had made his intentions pretty clear from the beginning. Mike, who was goofy and smiley. Mike fought like hell to keep her from diving and brought her a change of clothes afterwards. Mike called her almost every night during the off-season, asking about her folks and her day. She hadn't talked to Andy at all. She'd been too furious at him to even think about it.

Andy. The man that she clung to for dear life after that pot shot across the deck. The man that clung right back. His gaze left her speechless and stopped her brain from working right. They told each other everything, things they didn't tell anyone else, things they were scared to admit. They were honest to the point that it was probably bad for them both, since most of that honesty was about Mike. But he always listened. He'd pushed her away for so long but, in his own way, he'd tried. She hadn't realized it before, stuck on some strange idea that you had to be over-the-top with your dedication, but Andy had always quietly had her back.

With a sigh, she leaned against the rail and plugged a familiar number into her sat phone. Within a few rings, Jeff Conroy picked up, and she faked a smile as if he could actually see her.

"Hey, Jeff. It's Chris, checking the Time Bandit in."

"Hey, Chris," Jeff mumbled. He was probably sleeping at the office; he did that sometimes during the season because the crews were so bad at calling in at a decent hour. "How's it going?"

"Everything's fine. Frank got a little seasick, but he's good enough to be on deck now. I was out for a while, so some of the wheelhouse footage might be useless. I don't think John talked much. But, you know, good fishing and bad weather."

"The stuff TV is made of," Jeff audibly smirked. "Hey, I was reviewing some of your footage from last year, seeing if there was anything to use for deleted scenes on the DVDs, you know? You got some really great stuff, Chris."

"Thanks," she mumbled, ready to hang up and get back to her thoughts.

"Yeah," Jeff's voice turned, catching her attention. "I mean, there's some really insightful stuff here. We always get the 'crazy adolescents with explosives' vibe from the Time Bandit, and that's obviously there, but you got more than that. I didn't even know there _was_ more than that; you're the first person I've seen it from. You just get these…looks from Andy, you know? It's great."

"Well, thank you. I do what I can."

"Yeah…well…without _too_ much…detail…how far did you go to get that?"

"Um…sorry?" she raised her eyebrows. "What are you asking?"

"Chris, your stuff is amazing. You spent way more time in the wheelhouse than we expected, which is fine; I knew your situation going in." Chris made a face at that. "But, you know, being around for that long in such close quarters, plus the close calls on deck…" Jeff trailed off, and Chris felt herself tense. She was about to get fired. Jeff had finally put some pieces together, and he was pulling the plug on her. He couldn't even do it to her face.

"Look, your work speaks for itself. Whatever you did, however…close you and Andy Hillstrand might be now, it worked for you. I should have put some sort of policy in place beforehand but, whatever's going here, I really can't get in the way now. That'd be wrong as your boss and as your friend. Just keep getting me shots like that, okay?"

"Wait…" Chris waved her hand in front of her. "So…you're not firing me…even though you think I…I mean…me and Andy…last season…?"

"Who else would I trust out there during opillios?"

"I…um…you'll keep me around? Seriously?"

"Seriously. Now, I'm still waiting for the Northwestern to check in, so we'll talk tomorrow. G'night."

Chris gaped at the phone as she heard Jeff hang up. As a grin grew across her face she looked up at the wheelhouse and met Andy's eyes. She jumped up to her feet, ran across the deck, tossed the sat phone with the rest of the gear in the wet room so they had no hope of finding it the next night, and took the stairs two-at-a-time up into the wheelhouse.

She was breathless when she got to the top, and Andy spun his seat to see what had her so excited. Without a word, she flung herself across the room, caught his face in her hands, and pulled him into a long, passionate kiss.

Later, after she'd straddled him in the captain's chair, after Andy had pulled away for some air and then pulled her face right back to him, after he'd pulled her ponytail out to run his hands through her hair, she'd explain the phone call. She'd explain that she was staying on the Time Bandit with her boss's blessing. She'd explain that he was the first one she wanted to tell that amazing news to. She'd explain that, even though she was supposed to love Mike, her camera caught Andy the best and there was a reason for that.

But that was for later, after Scotty interrupted them and pretended to be completely amazed by the whole scene. For right now, it was just the two of them.


	17. Chapter 17

*****Thank you guys so much for reading! I was nervous about posting my first ff, and I'm really happy with how it turned out. I'm already working on another one that I'll hopefully have up soon. Thanks for reading and reviewing- all the comments have been great. Same disclaimer as always, of course.*****

"I can't do this."

"You _can_," Andy assured her. "Make an honest woman of yourself."

Chris shot him a look as he urged her towards the docks. She'd hoped for at least a few hours in Dutch before the Cornelia docked, but the two vessels had come in at nearly the same time. If anything, the Cornelia had docked first. Mike waved at her, and she offered a shaky smile.

"I can't, Andy," she said through her fake grin. "What do I tell him?"

"That you're madly in love with me. Duh. Now _go_. The sooner you get this over with, the better you'll feel."

She sighed, knowing Andy was right, and hopped over the rail. Then, something made her change her mind and hop back. "Andy, we'll see him in the Elbow Room later! Think of how…"

"Chrissy," Andy shot her a stern look. "I'll be in the wheelhouse. You have half an hour. Do your thing."

"Don't boss me around, boy," she ordered, but he turned his back and climbed the stairs without another word. She huffed and hopped back onto the dock. "You can do this. You're cool, you got this, you're awesome. You practiced this shit and everything," she chanted to herself right up until she met Mike halfway between the two boats. He hugged her, which she allowed, but when he tried to pull her in for a kiss, she wormed away.

She could tell by his face that he knew already, but she had to say it herself. "Mike. Hey."

"Hey. You thought about it, then?" he offered a half smile. She smiled sadly back at him.

"Yeah, I did. And…Mike, I'm so sorry…I can't ..."

"I kinda figured as much," he cut her off, glancing out towards the water. "Is it…um…" he inclined his head towards the Time Bandit. "He's a good guy. Andy. He's, uh…he really cares about you."

"He does," Chris nodded, not sure what exactly had tipped Mike off. "Mike, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. You can't help stuff like that, I guess. And I saw it coming. You know, he's a good guy. He's a _great_ guy. Better than me. If he makes you happy…which I know he does…hey, I can't argue with that, right?" They were both quiet for a minute. "We can, uh, still be friends, right? Cuz I kinda like being in with a producer. I looked damn good on the last season. Almost like I knew what I was doing."

Chris laughed and ruffled his hair. "Of course we can still be friends. We always were. And…thank you."

"For what?" he frowned. Chris rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug.

"For being amazing. You know I don't want to hurt you."

"I'll live. I'm a crabber. I'm stronger than I look." He pulled out of her hug. "See you at the Elbow Room later."

"I'll be there. First round's on you!" she pointed.

"Who decide that? Wait a second!"

"I did! Friends buy friends drinks. Learn the rules, Mikey," she grinned. Mike laughed and turned to head back to his boat. "Hey, Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"You alright?"

He thought for moment, squinting into the afternoon sun instead of looking at her. When he finally turned to her, he gave a half-smirk and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nope." He paused to kick at something on the dock, looked back up at her, and shrugged. "I'll see you around."

She watched him walk down the deck, head down and hands in his pockets, and felt a small part of her heart break. Yes, she loved Andy, but the man walking away from her, the man that had just been more honest with her in the last minute than in their whole relationship, she had loved him, too. She had never believed it was possible to love two people at once, but as she felt the familiar pressure of tears building up behind her eyes, she knew that she had done exactly that. She watched Mike hop back up onto the Cornelia, mumble something to Josh, and disappear behind a stack of pots. She didn't wait to see Josh's reaction; every crabber would know before she hit the bar that night, and she didn't need their judgment until then.

With a heavy sigh, she hopped onto the Time Bandit and climbed wearily into the wheelhouse. Andy and John were going over numbers, but she didn't really care that John was there. She wrapped her arms around Andy's waist and let him drape an arm around her shoulders and squeeze her.

"Hey, babe. How'd it go?" It was hard to mourn the loss of Mike when Andy looked at her like that. How could he show her so much love with such a casual glance?

"I think he'll be fine eventually. But you and I should still probably keep it low-key tonight. We agreed to be friends and all, so don't think you got rid of him." John laughed at that.

"I would never dream of it. My jaw still hurts from last time." Chris laughed. "How're you doing?"

"I'm…" she sighed and put some genuine thought into the question. "I'm happy. It was weird, but this is where I'm supposed to be."

Andy nodded at that, squeezing her shoulders a bit. "Hey, so, since we're both out in the same area-ish the rest of the year, John said he's gonna come visit you when he visits my ranch."

"You do know that Ohio and Indiana are still different states, right?" she teased, kicking John's foot lightly. "We're close, but it's not exactly a day trip. I mean, I'll have to make overnights when I visit Andy."

"I do not want to think about you two having _overnights_," John held a hand up. "I'm trying to make sense of these numbers, so no sex talk allowed. Just stop. And, yes, I will be visiting you and, if I must, I will have an overnight at your house. Just not _your_ kind of overnight. That's a whole new level of wrong."

Chris and Andy laughed, and Andy planted a quick kiss on her forehead. "Well, since you don't have much to do until your meeting later, but John and I are stuck figuring out checks, want to do me a favor?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Make me a sandwich?" Andy asked, but he couldn't keep his face straight. He also couldn't dodge the sharp whack to his stomach.

"I'll leave this sad, sad boat right now, Andy Hillstrand!" she threatened. Andy tightened his grip around her shoulders and added his other arm around her waist to pull her in front of him.

"No, you won't. I'm never letting you go."

He didn't know that more and more of her things would pile up at his ranch after her visits. He had no way of knowing that day that, in four months, her parents would decide to take her aunt up the offer of living together in a duplex down Florida ways. No one could foresee that, next king season, Andy would be the one asking Chris to move in with him, or that she would splurt out yes before she even really had time to think about it.

Neither one was sure if they were quite the marrying type, if they really wanted to go through that whole mess just so a few old ladies would feel better, but there was truth to his words. Andy would never let her go.


End file.
